Resuscitate
by bronwe-iris
Summary: A Marble Hornets fic: It's been two years since Tim uploaded Entry 87 and left Alabama. He hasn't had an incident since, and believes it's all behind him for good. Then one night he receives a frantic call from someone he was sure had been killed almost three years ago: Jay.
1. Chapter 1: Lazarus

**This story was inspired by the two following tumblr posts:**

**by poweroverbird: **** post/89509420628/marble-hornets-au-where-tim-is-trying-hard-to-move**

**and by imagine-marble-hornets: **** post/89534576275/imagine-after-entry-87-jay-just-showing-up-at-tims#notes**

**Thanks for the inspiration you two. :) And for a ton of Tim/Jay feels.**

**Also,**

**This is my first time writing in present-tense...ever. I'm trying really hard to make it work and be consistent, so I'm sorry if it sucks haha. Hopefully it's not too distracting.**

/

/

It has been two years since Tim had said goodbye to Jessica. Two years since he had finally put it all behind him and left Alabama for good. Now, he lives in small apartment in western Texas and works at an independently owned music store. One could say that his life is rather boring, but Tim doesn't mind the dullness of his life; instead, he's rather grateful for the small amount of relief it gives him.

His mother didn't like how far away he had decided to move. Granted, they had barely talked even when he had been in Alabama, but still, when she found out she wasn't exactly thrilled. He had surprised even himself with where he had ended up. After posting Entry 87, he had gotten into his car and just _drove_. He drove for what seemed to be countless hours, trying to rid himself of the memories of everything that had happened, but unable to do anything _but _think of them.

He kept driving until he finally felt some sort of peace. Maybe not peace – that is a state Tim is sure he'll never experience again – but a sense that he had finally gone far enough that there was a chance he could leave it behind for good. The town he lives in now is as unlike Alabama as he could find in both climate and landscape. He feels slightly childish for needing such a harsh change in scenery, but in some ways it helps relieve the continuous onslaught of memories that seem to never go away.

Of course, it's impossible for him to live as though none of it had ever happened. He still has nightmares – almost every night it seems – always filled with dark woods, bloody cameras…and that _thing_. That thing in the suit. Tim has not seen the creature in person since he had left Alabama, but unsurprisingly it still haunts his nightmares. His nightmares never seem more clear, more _real_ then when that thing appears in them. Tim always feels a faint sensation of frustration whenever that thing appears in his dreams, as though this is as close as the creature can get to Tim and it knows it.

When Tim's awake, most of time everything feels normal. Well, maybe "left alone and able to blend in" is more accurate than "normal." But every once in a while he gets this feeling that someone is just out of his line of sight, watching him. He knows he's just being paranoid (side effects of being stalked all his life and nearly killed multiple times, he figures) but every time the feeling hits him, he's _so positive _it's real.

The only thing that brings him comfort is the knowledge that he continues to receive his medicine, it still works, and it hasn't been stolen in two years. Regardless, he keeps his supply locked in a safe beneath his bed. Any extra pills are stored in a small container that he constantly keeps on him. He goes to a local doctor now, having cut off contact with his old one from Alabama.

He keeps to himself; he doesn't have one person he can truly call a friend, and on the rare occasions he is invited to social outings, he always declines. He calls his mom about once every three months, and their conversations are usually dull and short.

So when his phone rings one night, he doesn't bother to look at the number as he picks it up and answers. He assumes it's his manager, Sean, who will probably ask him to work tomorrow. It's not like Tim is going to be doing anything else.

"Hello?" Tim asks as he sits at the kitchen's counter stool. "Sean?"

For a moment, all Tim can hear is static mixed in with muffled, gurgled noises that vaguely sound like a person talking. Then the sounds clear up just enough for a timid voice to filter through the phone's speaker.

"Tim?"

Tim almost drops the phone in his shock. He clutches the edge of the counter, sitting rigidly on the edge of the stool. He has no idea what to do, how to react. Of all the possible situations he had ever imagined that could occur related to Alabama, this was not one that he had even _considered_ to be a possibility. Because it _wasn't_ possible.

"…Jay?" Tim's voice shakes. It couldn't be Jay – Jay was dead. Shot by Alex. And taken by that thing. It has to be someone else. For a second, he's completely at a loss of what to do. Then, he asks the only question he can think of. Because it can't possibly be who his mind is screaming it is. "Who…who is this?"

The next words are slurred. "Where am…I…" More muffled noises can be heard, and the constant overlay of static makes it almost impossible to make anything out. Loud buzzing bursts through the jumbled noise, making Tim jump. He's clutching his phone so tightly his hand is starting to cramp. But he doesn't let go, nor does he move to press the "end" button and hang up. He just sits there, frozen. The voice on the other end of the line picks up again, but only a few random words can be heard through all the distortion.

"…Tim…find Benedict…the ark…to the ark…Kralie…where am…Tim…find Tim…I don't…"

Terror grips Tim. The distortion…it sounds so similar to whenever his or Jay's cameras managed to catch that creature on tape. Tim shakes his head. No, this had to be a hallucination. Or a dream. He doesn't remember falling asleep, but isn't that how dreams are supposed to work? Maybe he had skipped a pill by accident today.

He's jolted out of his thoughts as the voice on the other end suddenly grows louder, and more frantic. "Where is it? _Where is it?_ Camera…find camera…Tim…I need…"

It's Jay. There's no questioning it. After months of running and hiding with Jay, he knows Jay's voice better than anyone else's. He's never spent as much time together with a person as he had with Jay. Sure, he had spent a lot of time with Brian back in college, since that really was his only friend then. But he pretty much had _lived_ with Jay for months, whether it was driving in a car, hiking through Rosswood, or hiding in a hotel for a night. Not that they had any choice, given the circumstances, but it definitely made Tim have no problems in recognizing Jay's voice.

And the terrified voice on the other line is Jay's. Even through all the static and distortion, there's no doubting it.

Tim feels like he's been punched in the stomach. His breathing is shallow and shaky, but after a few seconds, he finally manages to find words. "Jay? Jay, buddy, is this really you?" _It can't be. It's not possible. _His head feels like it's splitting as his mind tries to decide what to believe. _No, that's him – it has to be._ "Where are you? What's going on?"

But the person – _Jay _– ignores Tim. He continues to ramble nonsensically, snippets of his words coming through the distortion. "I need it…camera…I don't know…where…please…_please don't…_not again…I – I can't….not again…"

"Jay!"

"Don't forget…Tim…_no_…not again…_not again…_"

"_Jay!_"

The distortion worsens; the static is growing louder, and the once-dull buzzing now sounds like an angry hornets' nest. There are short cuts in the sound, but nothing long enough to be able to make out Jay's voice. The buzzing suddenly shoots up in volume, making Tim jump and yank the phone away from his ear. Then, the call ends.

At first, Tim doesn't feel anything. There's nothing he can pin an emotion on. But slowly, shock and horror creep back into his bones, and then they suddenly spread throughout his body like electricity, lighting up other emotions as they do so. Confusion, frustration, even anger maybe – Tim can't seem to sort them all out. He clenches the phone tightly in his fist, and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. He tries to convince himself that it was just a hallucination. It had to be. Because if it wasn't, and Jay's been alive this whole time…

Tim takes out his pill container from his shirt pocket and dry-swallows a single pill. Feeling slightly more in control, Tim goes into his phone's call history. The most recent call is from an "unidentified" number. Its call ended exactly 0:34 seconds ago. Tim hesitates a moment, then presses the re-dial button. The phone only rings once before cutting out. He tries again three more times, and every time the call cuts out after a single ring. Tim slides off of the stool and begins pacing the kitchen floor, repeatedly running his hand through his hair. He doesn't know what to think, what to believe.

A low chime rings in the air. Tim pauses and glances at his laptop that's sitting on the opposite end of the counter. His laptop is open to his gmail account, and according to the chime, he has a new message. Swallowing hard, Tim approaches the laptop.

It's a notification email from YouTube.

_totheark sent you a video: "Elicitation"_

Tim feels as though he's been dosed in icy water. He thought it was done. He had stopped the disease. He has successfully kept that monster at bay for two years now. Alex was dead. Brian was dead. _Jay _was dead. This couldn't be happening.

He's pressing a clenching fist to his mouth, staring at the email. He wants nothing more than to just delete the email, close his laptop, and preferably set fire to the thing. But…that was _Jay_ on the phone. He's certain it was. And if Jay really is alive, Tim has to find him.

Tim sets his phone beside his laptop. His hand is trembling so much it's slightly difficult to even click on the email. But he does, and – holding his breath – opens the link.

It starts with images of a road, the coloring switching between normal and inverted. Next are shaky shots of Benedict Hall. Tim's chest tightens. He thinks he's prepared for what's next, but he's not. It's footage stolen from Entry 80. Heavily distorted, it's still easy enough to see what the next clips are of; Alex pointing a gun at the camera – at Jay. The image blends into the clip of Jay's bloody hand clutching his side, and words blink onto the screen. DO YOU REMEMBER. DO YOU REGRET.

Tim's breath is coming in quick, shallows gasps.

The clip of Jay's body from Entry 84 flashes next for only about half a second, followed by more flashing words: WHO'S TO BLAME.

The next image is of Tim's mask.

Tim jerks away from the laptop in horror. Fear and rage rip through him as he stares at the blinking image.

The mask is gone. Now, there are clips of a forest. Rosswood Park, Tim assumes. The camera shows a part of the forest Tim has never seen before: two badly burnt buildings, surrounded by a thin patch of trees but obviously having once been in the middle of a clearing. The buildings are abandoned, and look like they might crumble to the ground at any moment. There's a quick shot of an old bell; it's so fast that Tim almost misses it.

The next clip is of Jay.

It's not one from any previous entry; this is new footage. Jay is lying on the ground, and for a horrible moment Tim is sure he's dead. But then the camera angle changes so it's focused on Jay's facial profile. A second passes and distorting ripples run down the screen. Then, Jay's face twitches and he shifts slightly. Tim inhales a ragged breath.

_He's alive._

Leaves litter the ground around Jay, but the camera angle doesn't allow Tim to see anything else beyond Jay's body; wherever is he, the lighting is too dim. Then, the image is gone and it's just blackness. Two rows of numbers, 27609183612 and 39570660245754, flash across the screen, and the video ends.


	2. Chapter 2: Decipher

Tim stares at the blank screen. _Jay's alive. He's really alive._ He runs his hand over his forehead and licks his dry lips. But where has Jay _been_ for the past two years? That _thing _had taken him…

The thing.

The creature.

What had it done to Jay after it had taken him? Had it had Jay for the entirety of the past two years? If it did, did it release Jay? Did Jay escape? Did someone rescue him? Tim rubs his forehead vigorously to ease the sharp headache that is now throbbing there. As the image of the suited creature forms in his head, Tim's chest tightens and he lets out a rough cough. Terror shoots through him. _No. Not now. Not after all this time. _He shoves his hand into his shirt pocket, once again pulling out his pill bottle, and swallows four of the pills. It takes a few seconds, but his chest slowly loosens.

Gasping, Tim grips the edge of the kitchen stool. His mind is reeling, but he forces himself to focus. _Jay. Think of Jay. He needs you._ He has to get back to Alabama. Jay's there.

But where is "there," exactly? He has no idea where Jay is. Sure, Tim _assumes_ he's somewhere in Rosswood, but if his guess is wrong, he'll lose even more time searching somewhere else if the first attempt is a failure. He has to be sure – he has to know exactly where Jay is before he goes running off after him.

So he starts looking in the only place he can think of that might have some answers for him. Pulling up the totheark video, he resumes his seat on the kitchen stool and clicks play. His body is rigid and his jaw set tightly as the video plays, but he forces down his emotions and focuses on searching for any helpful hints the video might give him. The two buildings might be a clue, but Tim doesn't know where they are or what they could have been used for. The image of the old bell flashes again. Tim frowns and rewinds the video. He slows down the video and lets it replay. The bell comes onscreen and Tim hit the pause button.

The bell looks rather large. Tim can't tell what its exact size could be since there is nothing onscreen to compare it to, but looks like it might be at least over a foot tall. Tim isn't sure, but he thinks it might be made of bronze. It's rather old-looking. Hundreds of years old, if Tim had to make a guess. He studies it for another minute, but can't see anything engraved on it. Except for a few scratches and the natural wear of age, it's completely plain. Behind the bell is a naked wall made of old, broken wood. Tim sighs in annoyance. _Guess it was just a useless image._ He lets the video play until the two rows of numbers flash onscreen again. Pausing it, Tim copies down the numbers onto a scrap sheet of paper.

27609183612

39570660245754

He stares at them for a moment, wondering if it's even worth trying to decode them. It could take up to _hours _to crack it, and he just doesn't have that kind of time. But what if it is vital information about where Jay is? What if it's not? It could just be a taunt, or a warning. He makes a soft noise of exasperation. Like he needs any more warnings. He knows exactly what to expect going into those woods. Tim chews the end of his pen, torn between decisions. Finally, he gives a sigh of defeat. _Fine. I'll try and crack your stupid code, but I won't work on it for more than half an hour. Jay is out there, and I don't have time to waste on puzzles._

He begins by going through all the various combinations that he and Jay had used while deciphering the older totheark videos. He doesn't remember a lot of them, and the ones he does remember don't work. Ten minutes pass, and frustration grows with each failed attempt.

_I shouldn't be wasting time on this._ He runs a hand through his hair. _Maybe an easier combination would work. I've tried all the stupidly complicated ones Jay and I had come up with._

He begins by trying to simply associate the letters of the alphabet with each individual number, but is quick to see that that's not going to work. He puts the numbers in sets of twos, but can tell that the numerical values are too big to simply line up with numbers 1-26 for the alphabet. He decides to try and divide the numbers to make them smaller. Since some of the numbers end in odd numbers, he starts by dividing by three. It doesn't work.

He taps his pen on the counter in irritation. His eyes fall on the zeros, and he wonders if the double-digit numbers would line up with 0-25 (after being divided by three) rather than 1-26.

_This would be embarrassingly simple if it's right_, he thinks as he scratches out his new calculations.

Slowly, the numbers start to turn into letters.

_J…U…D…_

_Shit. Now I feel really stupid._

He writes faster. A few seconds later last of the numbers is calculated.

_JUDGME_

_NTAWAITS_

Tim squints at the letters for a moment, then hurriedly re-writes them side-by-side.

_JUDGMENTAWAITS_

_JUDGMENT AWAITS_

Tim stares at the message in disbelief. He had wasted nearly half an hour for a stupid taunt.

"Thanks for a big fat nothing," he snarls as he chucks his pen across the kitchen. He's back to square one. He still has no idea where Jay could be in Rosswood. Tim lets out a frustrated breath and sits back, trying to remember all the places that he and Jay had gone to in Rosswood Park. Nothing helpful comes to mind.

It's hard to focus. His thinking is clouded by anxiety for Jay, who is unprotected, and probably still unconscious, in…wherever he is. What if something happens to him before Tim can get to him? _Well, at least I know Alex can't hurt him anymore. That's _one _less threat to worry about._

…Alex.

Tim straightens in his seat. What if Jay is at a place that he and Jay hadn't gone to, but _Alex _and Jay had gone to? Tim's hands fly across the keyboard as he brings up the Marble Hornets YouTube page. He scrolls through the entries until he reaches the ones that contained footage of the seven months Jay had missing from his memory. He vaguely remembers what they were about, but can't remember the specifics of the entries' content. He clicks on the first one he sees that has an image of a forest for its thumbnail: Entry 48. He skims through the video and quickly concludes that it's not going to help him.

Entry 41 is next. Only a few seconds play before Tim remembers what it's about. His hand resting on the counter clenches into a fist as he watches Brian film Rosswood Park. But it's clear to see that the entry isn't useful to him, so he forces himself to close it.

Entry 40 is a possible candidate. The chimney structures Jay found could be near where he is now, but there's no way to prove that. Chills run down Tim's back as the suited creature appears. He ends the video, knowing there's nothing else to see. Tim glances at the laptop's clock. _I'm wasting time. I have to work faster._ He clicks on next entry with a forest thumbnail: Entry 38.

Tim recognizes the entry almost immediately – it's when Alex had taken Jay into Rosswood and told him the apparent "history" of the place. Tim fast-forwards to when Alex is talking and then lets the video play, listening to the story.

"…They would take their worst criminals, murderers and child molesters, and they would put them on trial before God out here. They would tie them up to the trees and the idea was that they would get stretched out, kind of like a rack…"

Icy coldness runs through Tim as he listens to the story again. After Alex finishes, Tim pauses the video, going over what he had heard in his head. There wasn't any sign of the two buildings from the newest totheark video, but Tim hadn't expected there to be one. It was strange how persistent Alex had been about telling Jay that story…it must have _some _significance. Tim wonders if he can find anything online relating to it.

He searches, and finds almost nothing for a good ten minutes or so. But then he happens upon a small, poorly-managed website about local paranormal stories and legends in Alabama. To be honest, the site looks like it's run by a group of high school kids. A quick browse thorough the dozens of stories are enough to see that they are probably written by the kids themselves, and then debated over in the stories' comment sections.

There's a search bar, and Tim types in "Rosswood Park." Two results come up. One's about a "confirmed" werewolf sighting (Tim almost laughs out loud at that). The other is titled "Judge's Trail."

Tim clicks the second one. Excitement fills Tim as he reads the article. It's _very _similar to Alex's story, except that the online site's story goes on to tell about how the criminals' ghosts now haunt the place where the trials had taken place. Tim rolls his eyes at that, but continues to read past the story and into the comments section of the page. Apparently some of the kids who visit the website had gone there at night to try and see the ghosts – their testimonies proudly written out in the comments. They all claim to have found the trial site at the end of a hiking trail appropriately named Judge's Trail. There doesn't seem to be anything else of use, so Tim begins to scroll back up. But then his eyes catch on a word: "bell." He stops and reads the paragraph surrounding the word.

_ James and I were out there at 10pm. At 10:09 we heard this distant sound of a bell ringing. Kind of like an old church bell. Then, we saw something white move behind a tree. It was a ghost of one of the convicted criminals, I swear it!_

Tim doesn't bother to read any further, as it quickly turns into a multi-commenter argument about the validity of the claim. He re-reads the first half of the paragraph, and the image of the old bell from the totheark video flashes across his mind.

He doesn't like the idea of searching for Jay in a place that is backed up by an unreliable kid's ghost story, but he doesn't exactly have anything else to go on at the moment either. Opening up a new tab, he does a search for Rosswood Park hiking trail maps. The most professional-looking ones outline only major trails, none of them labeled "Judge's Trail." But the fifth map he pulls up is a lot more detailed than the others. He studies it carefully, making sure to read every annotation and label.

There. In the southwest corner of the map is a thin blue line labeled with a set of tiny letters: _Judge's Trail_. It's a short trail, and doesn't look like much. He prints out the map, praying that he's not going on a wild goose chase.

Though Tim doesn't expect there to be anything, he does a quick search for last-minute flights to Alabama. He quickly decides that it wouldn't be worth it to fly there. The closest flight he can find is ten hours away, and it has a one-hour layover on it. From the airport it's a little over an hour drive to the Rosswood Park area. He wouldn't even get to Rosswood until nearly sixteen hours from now if he took the flight. That isn't good enough; he needs to get to Jay faster than that.

The only other option is to drive. It takes about thirteen and an half hours to drive there. It's not _that _much better than flying, but every hour counts, so it's enough for Tim. Plus, he'd have his own car, and some extra money in his pocket that he would've had to have spent on a plane ticket.

His mode of travel decided, Tim abandons the kitchen and rushes to his bedroom. He's packed in less than two minutes. He pulls out an empty backpack and opens his desk drawer to grab his laptop charger. He pauses, staring. Pushed up against the drawer's back corner is Jay's camera.

Out of all of the camera and recording equipment Tim had destroyed after leaving Alabama, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of Jay's camera. It had meant so much to Jay. So he had kept it.

Tim stares at the old thing, and the familiar image of Jay holding it up to his face and looking at Tim through the lens sparks in Tim's mind. He feels this throat tighten for a moment as he reaches down and picks up the camera that had sat forgotten for over two years. He turns it over in his hands, studying it. A moment passes, and then hHHe reaches into the drawer, pulls out the camera's charger, and slams the drawer shut. Returning to the kitchen, he packs his laptop, Jay's camera, and the corresponding chargers into the backpack, along with all of the food he can stuff into the remaining space.

And finally, _finally_, he's ready to leave.

/

Tim's head is pounding – courtesy of a vicious headache – for most of the drive. His mind races to sort out all of the questions and thoughts in his head, and the totheark video keeps replaying in his mind, making him all the more anxious and confused.

The totheark video. Who could possibly behind it? Brian is dead, Tim is sure of that. Tim's stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought of Brian, but he knows there's nothing that he can do about what happened now. He tries to make up a list of possible candidates for who could have taken Brian's place, but ends up coming with a grand total of zero. He has absolutely no idea who it could be.

It pisses Tim off. That someone took on Brian's persona and started using it for their own amusement, their own gain (what could they possibly be gaining from this?). It's like they're making a mockery Brian's memory. Tim knows that's stupid thinking; after all, he and Brian weren't exactly _friends_ anymore by the time Brian had fallen from that ledge. Besides, whoever it is is probably being stalked and tormented by that creature too, just like he and Brian were. They're probably not fully in control of what they're doing.

Still. Tim wouldn't mind greeting them with a solid punch to the face. Especially after that stupid coded message that they probably thought was _so clever_. Tim grinds his teeth at the reminder that he has wasted almost thirty minutes for that message. _Judgment awaits. Whatever that's supposed to – _

Tim's jaw almost drops open with the suddenness the answer slams into him. Judge's Trail. How could he have been so stupid as to not see the connection sooner? And yet, the revelation does nothing to ease Tim's mind.

Judgment awaits.

Uneasiness pools in Tim's stomach, and he increases his foot's pressure on the gas pedal.

_Hold on, Jay._

_/_

He reaches the town where Rosswood is a little after 9am. It takes him only fifteen more minutes, and then he's pulling into the parking lot for Rosswood Park.

He feels sick. He feels fear. He wants nothing more than to turn around and drive to the ends of the earth. Anything to avoid going back into that cursed place. But he forces himself to think of Jay, and it's the only thing that keeps him in control as he parks the car and steps out of it.

He takes most of the items out of his backpack to make it as light as possible. But he leaves his cell phone, two water bottles, and a handful of granola bars in it. He considers leaving Jay's camera behind too, but Jay's frantic pleas for it from the mysterious phone call fill his head and he puts it back into the backpack. He has no desire to film himself anymore – he won't be uploading any entries anyway. He refuses to. But he won't have Jay panic and become uncooperative just because he doesn't have his stupid camera with him.

The hiking map is folded up and clenched in his hand. He hesitates, staring at the looming tree line. Then he squares his shoulders and walks into the woods of Rosswood Park.


	3. Chapter 3: Judge's Trail

The sunlight filters through the tree branches brightly, spilling onto the ground in strange patterns and stretching out over the pathway. There's no wind, but the branches seem to sway ever so slightly regardless; though when Tim focuses his gaze on them, they seem as still as ever.

It had been relatively easy to find Judge's Trail with the map. Yet, Tim can understand how people without one could easily pass by it. The opening to the trail is nestled beneath a low arch of trees that is nearly overgrown by the surrounding bushes that had sprung up on either side of it. There is no trail sign, but Tim knows it's the correct path because there isn't another trail for at least a mile on either side of the entrance to confuse it with.

For a while he walks undisturbed. It's strangely quiet though. He doesn't expect to run into hikers, yet even without that the woods seem oddly empty. The rustling of leaves, the soft padding of animal footprints, the chatter of birds – all silent. Tim's footsteps and steady breathing are the only sounds in the crisp air. It unnerves him slightly, but somehow he can't say he's not surprised. It is Rosswood, after all. He's just grateful he got to the park in the morning – during the day, and with _plenty _of daylight to spare.

Then again, when has daylight really helped them in the past? That thing obviously had no problem showing itself in the daytime.

Feeling a lot more apprehensive after that thought, Tim swallows another pill and picks up the pace. For the most part, the trail stays fairly straight. Over time the trail starts arcing to the right, but it's so gradual it's almost unnoticeable.

After about twenty minutes of walking, the trail suddenly takes a sharp turn to the left. Tim follows it, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

The trail opens up into the exact "clearing" filmed in the totheark video. It's not exactly a clearing anymore, as thin trees have grown lightly throughout it, and the bushes that had once been on the edge of it have started to push their way inward. Vines hang down from the branches above, twisting together and stringing themselves across the tall grass.

On the far side of the clearing are the two burnt buildings. They look like they were never very tall or impressive, even before whatever fire destroyed them took place. Tim can't tell what they may have been used for originally; there's too much damage to make out any discerning features of the structures. As he approaches them, his gaze catches on two poles standing between the buildings. His brow creases as he walks up to the poles, but as soon as he catches sight of what's lying between them, his breath hitches in his throat.

Half-hidden in the tall grass is the bell from the totheark video. It looks to be about two feet tall, but it's tilted, part of the brim having long been embedded at least four inches deep into the dirt. It's in fairly good condition, and though Tim is curious to study it further he stops himself. This isn't the time – he can come back after he finds Jay. Tim makes his way around the poles and continues on towards the two buildings.

The smaller building is closer. The majority of the roof had caved in long ago, and vines and moss had taken over the wood, wrapping themselves around the rotting structure possessively. There is no door, just bits of broken wood littering the opening of what must have once been a doorway. Tim rests his hand against the rotting frame and leans forward, peering into the dimness. Leaves cover every inch of the ground, along with wooden boards and chunks of scattered brick. And there, lying in the center of the room, is Jay.

He is lying on his back, his head tilted slightly away from Tim. One arm is sprawled out in Tim's direction, the other is awkwardly bent at his side. He is completely still, save for the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"Jay," Tim says brokenly, his voice barely above a whisper. He stumbles into the room, as though his combined shock and relief has rendered him unable to recall how to walk. He's by Jay's side in three steps, where he falls to his knees beside his friend.

"_Jay_. Holy shit. _Holy shit. _I can't believe – Jay? Can you hear me, buddy?" Tim's hands hover over Jay's body, unsure where to touch. Honestly, he's _scared_ to touch the frail form, as though his hands will pass through Jay's body, he'll wake up, and this hallucination, this dream, will be over.

Jay's eyebrows twitch, and he murmurs something faintly. Tim can't make it out, but it doesn't seem to matter in that moment. All that matters is that Jay – _Jay _– is _alive_. Tears brim along the edges of Tim's eyes, and a sob escapes him. Reaching down with a trembling hand, he touches Jay's shoulder.

He exhales a shaky breath he hadn't even been aware that he had been holding. Jay's shoulder is as boney as ever, but it's _real_. Tim's hand tightens as he stares at the face of the person he was so sure had been killed almost three years ago.

Tim notices that Jay is wearing the same clothes he had on the day Alex shot him. Tim grimaces, and wonders what's left from the wound. He leans over and sees that the bullet hole is still torn in the shirt. Tim's insides churn uneasily at the sight of it, guilt and rage twisting at the memory of what Alex had done to Jay. What Alex had done to everyone. Tim shakes his head. No, it wasn't all Alex's fault. Alex's mind had been warped by the creature years before he had pulled that trigger.

Oddly enough, there are no bloodstains on Jay's shirt. Tim frowns and reaches over, shifting the bottom of the shirt up slightly to get a better look at Jay's side.

There is not one sign that a bullet had torn through Jay's side. Not even a faint scar mars the pale skin. Tim sits back uneasily, unnerved by this discovery. But there's nothing else he can do about it until he has more information from Jay himself.

Tim is surprised to find that Jay doesn't smell at all. At least, not in the way one would assume a person to if they wore the same outfit for over two years. Instead, the thick scent of damp moss and rotting wood clings to him. But then Tim does get a hint of something unpleasant amongst the odd forest smell. For a second he's unable to place it, but when he does, he recoils slightly, repulsed. It's faint, but unmistakable: the stench of decay.

Fear grips Tim. He hopes the smell has nothing to do with Jay's physical condition – that it's just something Jay picked up from wherever he's been all this time (though that's not a comforting thought either). Tim gives Jay's shoulder a soft shake. "Jay. Come on, Jay, wake up. You're safe. I got you. We're getting out of here." Jay's hand pressed against his side gives a faint twitch, but he does not wake up.

Tim sets his jaw in determination, ignoring the pulsing fear that's settled on the edge of his mind. "Come on, Jay. Wake up." He shakes Jay's shoulder harder. "_Jay_."

He supposes he can carry Jay if he needs to, but he had been hoping for Jay to wake up before they left the clearing. He wants to be sure that Jay is alright. Tim glances warily through the slanted openings in the building's wall. After all, Jay's been here for too long already. They need to leave, before whatever had left Jay here decides to come back.

"Tim…find Tim…camera….Rosswood…"

Tim's attention is snapped back to Jay. Jay is moving slightly, though his eyes remain closed. Tim leans closer, his hand still pressed to Jay's shoulder. "Jay?"

Jay's eyelids flicker, and he emits a soft moan.

"Jay?"

Jay's eyebrows twitch towards each other briefly, as though in confusion, or pain. Then, slowly, his eyes open. He groans and groggily moves his head about, his eyes bleary as they struggle to recognize his surroundings. Then his gaze meets Tim's.

"Hey, buddy," Tim says weakly. He feels like a hundred emotions are trying to escape him, and it's with great effort that he manages to keep them all under control. A shaky smile spreads across his lips. "How're you feeling?"

Jay just stares at him. Uncertainty flashes across his face, and his lips part slightly. "Wha…who…" he manages to stutter, the words heavily slurred.

"It's me, Jay. It's Tim. I'm getting you out of here," Tim says. He tries to shake off the faint sense of nervousness that has suddenly crept up on him. He knows Jay is probably just getting his bearings after being unconscious for over half a day after that phone call, but Tim can't help but feel that something's not right. That way Jay is looking at Tim…it's not normal, even for something like this.

"…Tim?" Jay mutters, his eyes still trying to focus on the person kneeling beside him.

"Yeah, it's me. It's me, Jay."

"What are you…" Jay's words are muddled, but Tim is able to make them out easily enough. "What're you doing….here…" Jay blinks slowly, and tries to move his head to get a better look at where they are. But the effort is too much for him, and his head sinks back to the ground dully. "Where's Alex…Seth…we're supposed to be shooting today…"

Tim stares at Jay. "What?"

"Film…Alex's film…he'll be so angry if I'm not there…"

Tim's mouth drops open slightly. "Jay…how much do you remember? Before today?"

But Jay doesn't seem to hear the question. His eyes grow hazy and for a second they look like they're about to roll back into his head. "Ark…find the ark…I'm sorry Tim…I've gotta tell him I'm sorry…I didn't mean it…"

Tim gives Jay a hard shake. "Jay! Come on, snap out of it!"

Jay looks up at Tim, his expression suddenly terrified, startling Tim. "_Find Alex. Find the Ark__._" A chill runs down Tim's spine at hearing the familiar words. Jay takes a shuddering breath, then coughs out a sob. "Alex…Benedict Hall…"

Tim's had enough. He needs to get Jay out of here. "Come on, we have to go, Jay." He crouches on the balls of his feet and wraps his arm around Jay's back, beneath the armpits. Jay mumbles something, but he doesn't resist Tim's movements. Tim pulls both of them to their feet and leads Jay through the structure's doorway.

"Camera…my camera…"

Here we go. Tim glances at Jay, who seems to be becoming more coherent now that they're out in fresh air and are moving. Jay looks around him hazily, and his gaze falls on Tim. "Tim. Where's the camera? I _need _it. That thing…it's here…I can't…not without…"

Tim sighs to himself in irritation. He had been expecting this, but still. They stop, and Tim tries unwinding his arm from around Jay, hoping that Jay is able to hold himself up for a second while he takes off his backpack. He isn't. The moment Tim's arm begins to slip away, Jay starts to crumple to the ground with a low moan. Tim immediately catches him, and eases Jay to a sitting position on the ground.

Jay seems unconcerned by the incident. It takes only a second for him to recover and then he's looking about him frantically, his words panicked. "Where's my camera? _Where is it? _Camera…camera…"

Tim hurriedly unzips his backpack and pulls the camera out of it. "Here, Jay, here!" He crouches down, holding the camera out.

Jay stops muttering instantly and stares at the thing. He slowly reaches out and takes it, turning it over in his hands and studying it carefully. Relief is clear on Jay's face, but it does nothing to ease Tim's concern. _What's wrong with you, buddy?_

"Okay, you got your camera. Are you ready now?"

Jay looks up at Tim. He squints, confusion clear on his face. "Tim?" he says. The word is clear – actually, it's the clearest thing Jay's said since he's woken up. Jay blinks and looks around them. "Where are…are we in Rosswood?" He still sounds slightly groggy, but it's a definite improvement. Jay returns his gaze to Tim, fear suddenly dominating his expression. "Is that masked man here? The one in the yellow jacket, with the white mask. Did he attack us?"

Tim feels as though his blood has turned to ice. He doesn't know how to respond to that question.

Jay glances down at the camera in his head, rubbing his forehead weakly. "I – I don't remember…what happened…"

"Jay, what do you remember?" Tim asks carefully.

Jay looks up at Tim, his eyes pleading. "I…I…_can't_. I – I don't know what…where are we?"

"We're in Rosswood Park, Jay," Tim said, struggling to keep his voice steady. "But we have to go. _Now_."

Jay glances around him frantically. "Is that thing nearby? That thing in the suit. Have you seen it?"

"No, Jay. But we have to go. I'll tell you everything once we're out of here. Okay?"

Jay considers what Tim says. Finally, he nods. "Okay."

Tim sighs in relief. "Good. Let's go." He begins to reach for Jay, but Jay pushes the hand away, his mouth set stubbornly.

"I don't need…" the sentence trails off as Jay attempts to push himself off of the ground. His arms shake violently at the effort and he starts to collapse again, but Tim lunges forward and manages to catch him before he hits the ground.

"What's…wrong with me?" Jay slurs, the alarm in his voice easy to hear even in his dazed state.

"I don't know," Tim replies honestly. He doesn't mean to say it; he doesn't want to scare Jay any further, but it just sort of slips out. "But we're gonna fix you," he says, trying to sound reassuring. "I promise. We just need to get you away from this place."

Jay nods faintly, though uncertainty is clear in his eyes. He licks his chapped lips, his breathing ragged. Tim suddenly feels like an idiot. Of course Jay would be thirsty. Who knows when he drank last? Tim pulls out one of the water bottles and unscrews the cap before holding it out to Jay. "Here. You need to drink some water."

Jay glances at the water bottle without interest. "I don't want any."

"You have to drink some, Jay. I won't have you passing out on me. You are beyond dehydrated."

Jay grimaces as he considers the clear liquid sloshing about in the plastic bottle. "I feel like I'm going to throw up…" He mutters.

"Well, if you do, do it away from my shoes," Tim lamely jokes, in a vain attempt to get some sort of positive reaction from Jay.

Jay doesn't say anything. His gaze shifts between Tim's face and the water, clearly having no desire to drink the liquid. But Tim's face is set, and he continues to hold out the bottle. Finally, Jay stretches out a shaking hand towards the water. Tim can tell Jay won't be able to hold the bottle on his own, so he keeps one hand wrapped around it as Jay brings it to his lips. Jay only gets about two mouthfuls of water before he suddenly chokes and coughs violently, spraying the water from his mouth.

"I…I can't…" he manages to gasp out once the coughing fit has passed.

Tim doesn't argue. He's sure that Jay's coughing was simply his body rejecting the liquid it's been denied for whatever amount of extended time, but it still sets him on edge. The urge to leave is stronger than ever. "It's fine," Tim says, putting the water bottle away. "Let's just go."

Tim once again hauls Jay to his feet and wraps his arm around Jay's back, supporting him with little effort. _He's so thin. Thinner than before. _Tim forces down the onslaught of emotions that once again plague him as he leads Jay away from the building. On one hand, Jay's _alive._ But…something is obviously very wrong with him. His memory is completely screwed up, as though it's been scrambled around for two years and then left a jumbled mess for Tim to find. Tim swallows hard. He hopes he can keep his promise to Jay about fixing him.

At first, Tim is pretty much dragging Jay though the clearing rather than simply supporting him. Jay is trying, but he can barely manage to put one foot in front of the other. Eventually he finds some level of balance and is able to stumble alongside Tim. As they pass the bell, Jay's eyes light up for a moment. With recognition, or simple interest, Tim can't tell. But it's a fleeting moment, and then Jay looks away without saying anything.

They walk down Judge's Trail silently, their labored breathing the only sounds drifting through the air. Jay is clutching the camera tightly, his focus centered on keeping a hold on the device more than anything else. It's on, and recording, but Jay doesn't seem to have the strength to lift it up to eye-level. Instead, it's pointing at the ground, recording the passing pathway and occasionally picking up Jay's shoe walking in and out of the corner of its frame.

Tim doesn't like that the camera is recording; he feels like they're playing their luck with that thing on. It reminds him too much of when he and Jay had made the entries. When they had been mercilessly stalked by the suited creature. Tim glances around him warily, watching the trees on either side of them as they walk.

They're almost to the end of the trail when Tim hears it. It's faint, but distinct. The sound of twigs cracking and leaves crunching. Of footsteps. Any other person would assume it's an animal, or a simple hiker, but Tim knows better. He stiffens and tugs Jay to a stop alongside him, twisting his neck around to examine the surrounding woods.

"What is it?" Jay asks. He sounds utterly exhausted.

"I heard something…" Tim mutters. His eyes narrow as he continues to search. He's about to turn back to face the pathway when he sees it. Out of the corner of his eye, a shadowed figure standing among the trees.

"Hey!" he shouts. If he wasn't holding Jay up, he would've immediately run after the thing. But by the time he even considers trying to set Jay down, the shadow has disappeared into the woods.

"What was it?" Jay asks anxiously.

"There's someone out there," Tim says grimly. He doesn't want to make Jay even more anxious, but he's not going to lie to him either. Not when it's about something that could endanger them both. _Yet you had no problem lying to him about other things…_ Tim clenches his jaw and pushes the accusing thought out of his head.

Jay looks about them nervously. He tries to bring his camera up to record the tree line, but he just doesn't have the strength. Tim notices the attempt, and decides that – for the time being – getting out of the woods is more important that chasing after shadows. "Come on," Tim says quietly. "Let's go."

It's only a slight relief Tim feels when they make it to the end of Judge's Trail. The sunlight hits them full-force as they step out from beneath the arching trees, making them both squint their eyes in discomfort. Jay's body is getting heavier as the strength to hold himself up is quickly slipping away. But Tim doesn't slow down, and by the time they reach his car, Jay is nearly unconscious. Tim hurriedly opens the car's backdoor and has to lift Jay into his arms in order to lay him across the backseat. Jay's eyes are half-open and unfocused; his head lolls to the side once it touches the car seat, as he is clearly too weak to hold it up any longer. Surprisingly, he has still managed to hold onto the camera, though his grip on it is slackening. Tim notices and gently pulls the camera out of Jay's grasp, to which Jay moans faintly in protest.

"Don't worry, Jay. It's still recording," Tim says, holding up the camera so its red light blinks in Jay's direction. "It's okay."

But Jay's eyes are already drooping shut, and it's not even a second later before his body falls limp. Tim waits until he can see that Jay is breathing normally, and then he blows out a heavy breath of air, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He had no idea how to fix this, how to fix whatever had happened to Jay. Right now, all that's registering in his exhausted mind is that he needs to get Jay somewhere safe so they can both rest.

/

Hotels. He freaking hates hotels.

He hasn't been inside a hotel in two years, and was very proud of that record. But now here he is, sitting on the edge of an old hotel bed, with his only friend he had thought until yesterday was dead lying unconscious beside him. And to top it all off, that same friend probably has had his brain fried by a faceless monster for two years, and now has no idea what's going on. Tim almost laughs, the situation is so ridiculously bad. He lowers his face into his hands and rubs his eyes vigorously. _And this raging headache isn't helping in the least._

It's late afternoon now, and Jay hasn't so much as stirred since they had arrived at the hotel. Tim knows he has to wake Jay up soon to try and get him to eat…and hopefully persuade him to take at least one of Tim's pills. Tim grimaces, remembering how Jay had reacted the last time he found out Tim had fed him pills while he had been out of it.

_But this is different. He's been gone for _two years_._ _Trapped who knows where and having to face who knows what._

Tim gets to his feet and paces the room, rubbing his arms in agitation. He sighs, and goes into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly cracked. Soaking a washcloth with cold water, he presses it against his face and holds it there for a long while. He lets the facet run full-force, the sound of rushing water almost soothing. The water from the washcloth drips down his neck, and he revels in the slight comfort the sensation brings as he tries to collect his thoughts and figure out what to do next.

He finally lowers the washcloth to the counter with a heavy sigh. He splashes fresh water on his face and wipes a towel across his skin, trying to ignore the strong scent of bleach the towel gives off. Lazily dropping the towel onto the edge of the bathroom's small counter, Tim pushes open the bathroom door and steps back into the bedroom.

Jay is still sleeping on the bed. He's in the same position he's been in for hours, but his breathing is steady, which eases Tim's worry somewhat. Tim turns towards the opposite wall, which the room's dresser is pushed up against. He had propped his backpack full of food against it, and figures now is a good time to try and get Jay to eat something. But the moment his gaze falls upon the dresser he freezes, staring at the mirror hanging above it in horror.

On the glass, scrawled in dark red writing, is a single message:

THIS WILL RECTIFY NOTHING


	4. Chapter 4: To Remember

The message has not been on the mirror long enough for it to fully dry, so it doesn't take much time or effort to scrub it off of the glass. That knowledge only makes Tim more apprehensive. Somehow, during the – what, five? Ten? – minutes he had been in the bathroom, someone had broken into their hotel room and written the message on the mirror. How could he have not heard them?

And Jay had been in the same room as the intruder, completely unaware and unable to defend himself in his unconscious state. So many things could have happened in that short span of time if the intruder had had more intentions than simply writing a threatening note on a mirror. Tim feels sick as his mind starts to mercilessly come up with a dozen different scenarios far worse than what had actually happened. He glances down at the blotchy red stains on the towel, and he has the sudden urge to throw up. He tosses the towel into the hotel room's closet with disgust and shuts the door.

Pulling out a granola bar and water bottle from his backpack, Tim goes over to Jay's beside and sets the two items on the nightstand. Bending over the sleeping form, Tim give Jay a gentle shake. "Jay. Jay, you need to wake up."

It only takes a few seconds of prodding for Jay to sleepily open his eyes. His face is half-pressed into the hotel pillow and for a moment he stares at it in confusion. Then he shifts his body and his gaze falls onto Tim. He jerks upwards in surprise, one hand clutching the bed sheets tightly.

"Whoa, calm down!" Tim exclaims, his hands held out in front of him in a sign of surrender. "It's just me."

Breathing heavily, Jay tears his eyes away from Tim and glances around the room. "Where are we?" Relief passes through Tim. Jay's voice – though sleepy – no longer sounds like someone had just heavily drugged him. He sounds a lot more together…more Jay.

"Some gross old hotel as far away from Rosswood Park as I could find," Tim answers. He tries vainly to keep the bitterness he feels about the situation out of his voice.

"Oh." Jay's gaze lingers on the door leading to the outside hallway. "You sure we weren't followed?"

Tim hesitates for a moment. "No," he says finally. "No, I'm sure."

Jay sighs in relief, then looks about with sudden anxiety. "My camera. Did you get my camera? Where is it?"

Tim nods behind him to the camera sitting on top of the hotel dresser. Jay looks slightly relieved, but the expression is almost instantly replaced with alarm. "It's not recording. Why is it not on?" he demands.

Tim fights back the urge to sigh in aggravation. He walks over to the camera, turns it on, and returns to where he was standing beside Jay's bed. "Happy?"

Jay nods silently, staring at the camera. Tim glances back at the troublesome thing, then shakes his head slightly. "Jay. Do you remember anything about yesterday? Do you remember when you had called me?"

Jay reluctantly pulls his gaze away from the camera, fixing it on Tim instead. "Yesterday?"

"Yeah, last night. You called me. I couldn't hear everything you were saying because there was so much static coming through the phone. But it was you. Do you remember that?"

Jay's forehead creases in concentration as he struggles to recall the event. Finally, he shakes his head. "No."

Tim's disappointed, but not surprised. He just wishes he knew where Jay had gotten a phone, and where that phone had gone. Because he's certain he had not seen one in the building he had found Jay in. Tim asks another question, though he's pretty sure he knows what the answer is going to be. "Well, do you remember _anything _before today?" _Like where you've _been _for the past two years?_

Jay looks at Tim oddly, as though that was the silliest question a person could be asked. He opens his mouth to say something but stops, a frown spreading across his face. He focuses on his knees bent before him, staring at them as he tries to think. A few moments pass in agonizing silence as Jay sits there, staring and thinking. His body starts to shake in both panic and fury. "I…I…" Jay groans and leans forward, clutching his head with the hand not wrapped in the bed sheets. "My head…"

_Well, it was worth a try. _Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, Tim turns to the bed's nightstand and picks up the water bottle and granola bar. "Jay," he says, holding items out. "You have to eat and drink something. It's been hours, and I have no idea how long you've been going on without food or drink before I found you."

Jay's demeanor immediately changes as he eyes the food and water. He scowls, and ignores the offered items. "I don't want them."

Tim sighs in frustration. "Are you really going to make this difficult? You can't not eat or drink."

"I'll only throw it all up."

"You don't know that."

Jay gives a hollow laugh. "Really. Well, the queasy feeling in my stomach is telling me otherwise."

"Well, tell your stomach to man up." Tim unscrews the cap off of the water bottle and shoves it in Jay's face. "Here."

Jay shoots Tim a dark look, but he takes the bottle. He shifts it in his grip, eyeing the liquid warily. Looking the most displeased Tim's ever seen him, Jay lifts the bottle to his lips and pours the water into his mouth. He drinks less than a fifth of the bottle before he pulls it away, his mouth still full of water and his face scrunched up in distaste. Tim takes the bottle as Jay swallows the remainder of the liquid.

A second passes, and nothing happens. "See?" Tim says triumphantly. "You're fine." Setting the water bottle down, Tim partially unwraps the granola bar and holds it out towards Jay. "Now some food."

"I really don't think –"

"Eat it," Tim orders.

"Yes, mother…" Jay mutters, taking the food and carefully biting off a piece. He waits a few seconds, then takes another, larger bite of the granola bar. Satisfied, Tim turns away to get some food for himself. But he hasn't even taken a step towards the backpack when Jay makes a choked sound – and proceeds to vomit onto the white bed sheets.

Tim's back at Jay's side instantly, but is unable to do much except watch as Jay heaves up the small amount of granola bar he had eaten, mixed in with yellow-ish bile. It's over soon, and Tim reaches out to wrap his arms around Jay's shoulders, holding him upright. Jay leans heavily against Tim's arms, gasping. "Told you…" he says weakly.

Tim sighs, trying to avoid looking at the pool of vomit as he maneuvers Jay away from it. "Yeah, well, you're going to have to eat sometime. We'll just have to keep trying until you're able to keep something down."

"No…way…"

"You can't waste away into nothing Jay. Not that there's much left of you _to _waste away."

Jay tries to glare at Tim, but the expression turns into a sickly grimace as he clutches his stomach. He squeezes his eyes shut and an agonizing moan escapes his lips.

Tim watches Jay quietly, pity quickly overcoming his exasperation. "Okay, let's just move you to the other bed first." He gently grasps Jay's right shoulder and upper arm, helping Jay crawl off of the ruined bed and onto the other one. Jay collapses against the pillows, wincing at the impact.

"Just…just give me a few minutes before you try shoving something else down my throat," Jay says, staring at the far wall to focus his senses and ease the nausea.

Tim rolls his eyes. "Okay, sure, no problem." He picks up the water bottle and holds it out to Jay. "Here. To wash down that bile taste."

Jay looks slightly abashed, but he takes the water without complaint and drinks a few mouthfuls. His hand not holding up the water bottle presses against his stomach in an attempt to steady the queasiness. Tim's gaze slides away from Jay's hand to the shirt it's clutching. "Hey, I know this probably isn't the best time, but when you can you should probably change out of those clothes. They're filthy."

Jay sets down the water bottle. "I would, but I don't have anything else to change into." The statement sounds slightly bitter, but it comes across as hopeless more than anything else.

Tim gestures towards his duffel bag. "You can borrow some of my clothes until we can get some for you." He nods towards the bathroom. "It might not be a bad idea to take a shower too. Not that you smell bad – particularly – but it might make you feel better. It does when I'm sick, at least."

Jay studies Tim with a curious expression. "Why are you helping me?" he asks.

Tim stares at Jay in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you going through all this trouble for me? We're not even that good of friends."

The words hurt Tim – a lot more than he'd care to admit, actually – but he keeps his face neutral. "I don't know. I just…we've been through a lot together, you and me. I just think that –"

"We have?"

Jay is watching him with a bewildered look. He seems slightly embarrassed. "I mean, I know we worked on Alex's movie together. But I didn't even know you before that. And, I think…_know_ we've seen each other a few times since that, but…" Jay frowns and rubs his forehead. He growls in frustration. "I swear, I know there's something more. A lot more. The pieces are there, but it's like they're out of order. Some are clear, some are blurry, and others – they're completely blacked out." He sighs. "I don't know."

Tim watches Jay with a pained look. He bites his lip and glances away for a second, unsure what to say. Unsure where to _start_. "Look, Jay," he says finally. "You're right – there's a lot you don't remember. And I'm going to try to help you to. But…right now we're also in a lot of danger. There's someone out there who wants to hurt us –"

"The man with the skeleton mask," Jay says tiredly.

Tim looks at Jay sharply. "What?"

Jay blinks at Tim in surprise. "You haven't seen him?"

"Seen who?" demands Tim. "Seen who, Jay?"

Jay glances away for a second, his face drawn in concentration, as though he wasn't sure himself. "I don't know. I – I just remember a man wearing this white mask…"

"You mean the man in the yellow jacket?"

Jay shakes his head. "No. A different man. A different mask. This mask looks like a skeleton face – it looks nothing like the other man's."

"Where did you see him?" Tim asks anxiously. "In here? In the hotel room?"

Jay gives Tim a strange look. "No, not here." He frowns, staring at nothing in particular as he tries to recall the memory. "In the woods, I think."

"In Rosswood?"

Jay shrugs. "I guess."

Chills run down Tim's arms. He wonders if that was the figure he had seen on Judge's Trail.

Jay grits his teeth and presses the heels of his hands against his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. "Tim, what is going on? I don't understand anything that's happening."

_That makes two of us._ "It's gonna be fine, Jay. We'll figure it out."

"And what about me?" Jay says, his voice suddenly anxious, almost child-like. "What's _wrong _with me?"

Tim is completely at a loss at what to say. "Look, right now we're both exhausted. Just…take a shower, and maybe a good night's sleep will help us both think better in the morning."

Jay doesn't look comforted one bit, and Tim doesn't blame him. Jay gets up from the bed with a small sigh and starts walking towards the bathroom. "Jay, hold on." Tim tugs his duffel bag onto the bed and shuffles through it, pulling out a plain t-shirt and jeans. It's the only other pair of jeans he has besides the ones he's wearing, but he doesn't want Jay to be stuck in the disgusting pants he's been wearing for two years straight. Jay takes the clothes with a grateful nod and goes into the bathroom. A minute later the sound of the shower running drifts dully through the bathroom door.

Tim goes over to the hotel phone and dials the front desk. A woman answers and he asks for new bed sheets to be brought to the room, to which the woman assures they'll be brought up shortly. Tim mutters a quiet thank you and hangs up, feeling so tired his body is aching with the pain of it. Trying to ignore the increasing intensity of the smell of the vomit, he digs through his backpack and pulls out a granola bar, eating it without much interest.

The hotel maid comes up while Jay is still in the shower and changes the bed sheets, showing no reaction over the vomit-soaked ones she has to cart away. Tim feels a pang of sympathy for her – he's sure that's far from the worst mess she's had to clean up before. When Jay comes out of the bathroom wearing Tim's borrowed clothes (far too baggy for him, unsurprisingly) Tim can notice a slight improvement. Jay's skin, though still alarmingly pale, is less sickly looking in its pallor; his eyes seem brighter too, more focused. But the lines in his face and bags beneath his eyes are still there, a testament to how worn out he is, despite having done almost nothing except sleep for the past two days.

Tim takes a quicker shower than Jay had, but by the time he's done Jay is already fast asleep. Tim considers shutting off the camera, but after a glance over at Jay he leaves it, instead plugging it into its charger. With a groan he sinks onto his bed. His mind is racing through everything that's happened in the past two days, but exhaustion quickly overcomes all manner of thought and he drifts off into an uneasy sleep.

/

He wakes up to screaming.

Tim shoots up in his bed, and after the moment it takes to register where he is, he lunges for the lamp on the nightstand. Dull orange light stretches over the room, illuminating a writhing body in the bed to Tim's left. "Jay!" He bolts out of his bed and rushes to the neighboring bedside. Jay's body contorts savagely, his fingers clawing at the sheets. His screaming does not cease, it just goes on and on, each scream more terrified than the last.

"_Jay!_" Tim shouts. He grabs Jay by the shoulders and shakes him so hard he nearly lifts Jay's thin body off of the bed. Jay's eyes shoot open and he jerks out of Tim's grasp, his screaming quickly fading into panicked gasps.

"Wh – wha –" Jay chokes out as he tries to suck air into his lungs. He looks about wildly until his eyes find Tim's shadowed form in the dim lighting. He jumps, tugging at the sheets that had twisted around his body. "Tim," he gasps.

"Holy crap, Jay," Tim says breathlessly. "Are you okay?"

Jay's entire body is shaking. He manages a tiny nod, avoiding Tim's gaze. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's not your fault," Tim says, more aggressively than he had meant to. He wasn't angry at Jay; he was angry at everything that had happened to Jay. Angry that he had been stalked and taken by that faceless monster, angry that that bastard Alex had shot him, and angry he, Tim, was the source of it all. Guilt burns in Tim as he attempts to give Jay a reassuring look, though that seems pointless since Jay isn't even looking at him. "Don't worry about it. Are you…are you gonna be alright?"

Jay nods again, his gaze still downcast. Tim eyes him warily, but does not press for anything more. If Jay doesn't want to tell him about the nightmare, that's his business. "Okay," Tim says, his tone cautious. "Just, try to get some more rest."

Jay doesn't answer. Tim returns to his bed and glances over at Jay, who has brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around his legs. His chin is buried in-between the tops of his knees, and his eyes are fixed on the camera sitting on the dresser. He is completely still, staring at the pinprick of red light.

Tim hesitates. "Jay," he says quietly. "You want me to leave the light on?"

At first, Jay doesn't move. Then, he gives a nod so small Tim almost doesn't see it in the dimness. Tim moves his hand away from the lamp switch and he sinks onto his pillow, turning his back to Jay. Silence fills the room, though neither of the two go to sleep for what seems like a long time after that.

Jay wakes up four more times that night. Nightmares aren't the source of the first two times; he simply jolts awake and promptly begins throwing up over the edge of the bed onto the hotel carpeting. There is no food in his body to give, so the vomit is simply yellow-ish bile. There are no bowls for Tim to give Jay to use and there's not much he can do to clean up the mess, so he settles with lying bathroom towels over the vomit and letting them soak up what they can.

The two times after that are from nightmares. Jay is screaming again, and by the time Tim makes it to his side Jay looks like he's already awake. But his eyes – though open – are seeing things Tim cannot, and his hands are grasping for something Tim does not have. The screaming doesn't last long though, and soon it fades into frantic rambling, most of which Tim can't make out besides a few scattered words.

"Ale…ex…O – operator…wa – watch…ng…always…"

Tim frowns and tries to wake Jay – the attempt is unsuccessful. He considers getting one of his pills and somehow rousing Jay enough so he's able to take it. But before he can decide whether to do so or not, Jay's rambling softens into murmurs and soon his eyes are closing as he drifts back into full unconsciousness. Tim sighs, and sits on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, all hope for sleep lost now.

He must have dozed off at some point though, because he's woken up for the fifth time that night to quiet sobbing. Jay is curled up on his side, facing away from Tim. The sobs that shake Jay's body aren't loud, so Tim knows he couldn't have been in that deep of a sleep. Then again, he doesn't really ever sleep too deeply. He walks over to Jay's bed. As soon as he reaches it, Jay's eyes shoot open and he inhales a breathy gasp. His eyes meet Tim's, and shame seeps into them as he holds Tim's concerned gaze. Tears continue to flow, despite the sobs having stopped, and run down his face in long streaks.

Tim doesn't say anything. He simply sits down on the edge of Jay's bed, his back facing Jay's. Jay stares at him, but Tim doesn't turn around. Tim just sits there, staring into the shadows, his back just barely touching Jay's legs. Surprisingly, that small touch is comforting enough to calm Jay down. It's clear Tim isn't going to be moving from Jay's bed, so Jay slowly turns his head around again, facing away from Tim. He pulls the sheets closer around him, and stares ahead. They do not move for the remainder of the night.

/

Jay is able to eat two granola bars and finish off one of the water bottles the following morning, to Tim's great relief. Tim does not mention the events of last night, and if Jay remembers any of it he does not say anything. When Tim suggests they buy some clothes for Jay, Jay rejects the idea, insisting that he has plenty back at his apartment, if Tim is willing to drive him there.

"Jay," Tim says carefully. "Your apartment…it burned down."

Jay stares at him. "What?"

Tim looks at Jay sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"When?" Jay demands.

Tim hesitates to answer. But he knows Jay will have to learn everything sooner or later, so he decides there's no point in lying. "Years ago."

"_Years?_" Jay's eyes widen in shock. "But…how? Was there an accident? Do you know anything about it?"

"No more than you do…or you did, before," Tim answers dully.

Jay clenches his jaw. "I need to know."

Tim looks at Jay in exasperation. "I just told you, I _don't _know."

"No, not about the apartment; I hated that place anyway." Jay throws his arms up slightly, as though unsure what to do with them. He looks lost, but he looks angry too. "I need to know everything that's happened since then. If what you've been telling me is true, I'm missing _years _from my memory. I – I have no idea what's going on right now, what's happened to me…" Jay looks at Tim in a way that's almost accusing. "Do you have any idea what that's like?"

Tim's muscles tighten rigidly, and he stares Jay straight in the eye. "Yes. I do."

Jay's jaw loosens, his eyes softening in surprise.

Tim sighs. "Look, Jay. You want your memories back. And I want you to get your memories back – for both our sakes. No offense," he adds, upon seeing Jay's affronted expression. "And the faster we get you to remember, the faster we can figure out what's going on." He hesitates a moment, debating. Then he pulls his backpack over and draws out his laptop. "I don't know if this will work, but it's worth a shot." Opening it, he brings up the Marble Hornets YouTube channel. He glances up at Jay, who's sitting opposite of him on the other bed. Since they're facing each other, Jay can't see Tim's laptop screen – only the plastic backing of it. But Jay doesn't strain to see what Tim is pulling up on the computer; he simply sits patiently, eyes on Tim. That glimpse of patient trust Jay used to have for Tim so long ago does nothing to ease Tim's conscience.

_I'm sorry Jay. But I can't have you know everything yet_. Guilt tugs at Tim as he moves his cursor over the screen. But then the action is done, and Entry 87 has been deleted from the Marble Hornets channel. Tim considers deleting all of the entries with Jessica in them, but Jay would definitely notice if the earlier entries were missing from the numbered list. Since Entry 87 is the very last one, Tim can get away with claiming that the entries ended on 86.

"Here," Tim says, turning the laptop around and passing it over to Jay.

Jay stares at the page for a moment. Something flickers in his eyes, and a shadow of recognition dawns on his face. "This is…I made these."

"Yeah," Tim says quietly. "You did."

Jay is silent as he scrolls through the video list, reading the entry numbers, studying the thumbnails. Finally, he reaches "Introduction."

Tim suddenly stands, startling Jay. Tim shoots Jay an apologetic glance, fidgeting with his cell phone between his hands and all of the sudden looking very out-of-place. "I think you should watch these alone," Tim says. His tone is solemn, and uneasy. "It'll take a while to get through them all, but you wanted your answers, so there you go. I…I'll go to some stores nearby for some food…and things. I'll be back sometime around late afternoon – you should be able to finish them by then. There's more food in my backpack, and the other water bottle's pretty much still full. But please, _please_, do not leave this room. Do not answer the door for anyone but me. Promise me, Jay."

Jay looks slightly annoyed at the last request. "I'm not a child, Tim."

"No, but you're an amnesic busy-body who doesn't know how to listen to common sense. So just…_stay here_."

Jay looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn't, either by deciding it's not worth it, or because he simply can't come up with a good enough argument at the moment. Tim fights the urge to roll his eyes. Pocketing his cell phone, Tim makes his way around the beds towards the door. As he does, his eyes catch sight of a disturbingly familiar object on the dresser top.

"Jay?" he pauses, picking up the small tape. He glances at the camera, and sees that it's still recording. He turns and sees Jay watching him. Tim holds the tape up. "What's this?"

"A tape."

"Thank you, Sherlock. I mean – I only _had _one tape that I brought with me. Where'd you get a second one?"

"The first tape had run out this morning." There's a slight pause, and Tim notices that Jay looks slightly embarrassed. "I was hoping you'd have another in your backpack. So I dug around until I found one."

"But I don't have an extra tape in my backpack."

"Well, I found one in there. It was at the very bottom of the bag though, beneath all the food, charge chords, and papers. I almost didn't see it."

Tim frowns. When he had moved to Texas, he had destroyed every tape he had – whether they had recorded material on them or not. The only reason there had been a tape in Jay's camera was because he had simply forgotten to check inside it for one. He supposes that he must have just missed the tape at the bottom of his backpack. After all, he doesn't use the backpack very often, so it wasn't like he was going through it on a regular basis. Tim looks down at the tape in his hand, turning it over slowly.

"Tim?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Tim says, shaking himself. "Don't worry about it."

"Um, okay." Jay fiddles with the bottom of his shirt. "Hey, would you mind…if it's not a big deal…getting more of them?"

"More tapes?" Tim's heart sinks at that.

"Yeah. I mean, if it's okay."

"…yeah. Sure."

Jay's mouth curves into a small, grateful smile. "Thanks." He falls quiet, looking at the camera with a slightly disturbed expression. "It's strange. I'm not even exactly sure what I'm filming for. I just know that it's important to be doing so." He presses his lips together, and his brow creases as he pushes his mind to try and remember.

Tim doesn't say anything. Jay will find out everything he needs to know soon enough. Tim walks over to the door and pulls it open, glancing over his shoulder as he does so. Jay has already begun to watch "Introduction," his back turned to Tim. Pushing away the nervousness creeping on the edges of his thoughts, Tim steps outside into the hallway and lets the door slide shut behind him. He starts walking towards the hall leading to the parking lot when he realizes that he's still holding the tape Jay had already filled up with footage. He has a sudden urge to crush the thing. But instead he simply clenches it tightly in his fist and then slips it into his pants pocket. The uneasy feeling pooling in his gut is getting hard to ignore. He hopes he had made the right decision showing Jay the Marble Hornets channel.

/

Tim hurries to get the necessary shopping over with. Food, gallons of drinking water, and various toiletries all are easy enough to get. It's only when he passes the clothing section that he remembers that Jay needs clothes of his own. But he has no idea what size Jay wears – and even if he did, he'd feel too weird buying someone else's clothes. He'll just have to bring Jay back later.

Despite taking what he thought had been a rather long time at the store, he's dismayed to see that he still has _hours _before he can return to the hotel room. He does not want to get back before Jay is done watching all of the entries. It feels like it would be almost an invasion of privacy to watch them with Jay, which he knows is ridiculous since he's in them too. Tim just can't seem to pin down what his discomfort about the whole thing is stemming from. He wonders what Jay will think of the entries he never got to see. The ones that were after Entry 80. His insides twist slightly at the thought of that entry. He feels like it might be too cruel to make Jay watch that entry alone, but then again he doesn't think he'd want to be with Jay when Jay watches it. He feels like a coward.

So instead he finds other things to try and do while he waits. He's too far from Rosswood Park to go there now and do some actual searching, though he knows he and Jay will have to go back there soon. He takes his time walking around the town, smoking a cigarette as he peers through store windows and watches various passersby. After walking around for what he is sure must have been at least a _few _hours, he sees a sign pointing towards the town's public library. He has nothing better to do, so he decides to go and see if he can find anything on those buildings he had found Jay at, and that bell that had been there.

/

The library's computer system is about the worst Tim has ever seen in terms of organization. Because of this, it really slows down his process in finding books about the history of the local area surrounding Rosswood Park. The first few books he does find are mostly tourist-centered, with not much about history obscure enough to be helpful for Tim. He continues to search, and soon has a stack of several thick books and a few history magazines that might have information about the area surrounding Rosswood.

Hours pass, and still he's found nothing relating to either the "trial site" or the bell. He slams the last book shut, annoyance eating at him. His tired eyes lazily gaze at the book shelf across the desk he's sitting at, and he starts absentmindedly reading the titles: _Famous Lawyers of the American South, Notable Cases in America in the 1800's, Criminal Justice in 19__th__ Century Alabama_ –

Tim sits up straighter in his chair. He lunges across the desk, plucking the third book from the shelf. He begins flipping through it, looking for the section dedicated to the county Rosswood Park is located in. The section is fairly large, and nearly fifteen minutes pass before his search is finally rewarded.

It's a small story, taking up only half the page it's on. It begins by briefly describing the town that had been just outside Rosswood Park during the mid to late 19th century. It had been a small, tight-knit community, which is believed to be one of the reasons as to why the town went to such great lengths to punish their criminals. The book then explains the most severe of the punishments that the town would enact on the worst of their convicted. Tim can't believe what he reads: it is almost exactly what Alex had told Jay. The book even has a detailed sketch of what the historian believes the trial site had looked like before a strange fire had destroyed the place.

The two buildings had been simple structures even back in the 1800's, both only one-story tall. The larger one was used as a sort of courthouse, and the smaller a holding cell for criminals waiting for their trial. Apparently, the bell had been hung from a metal rod between the two wooden poles. Whenever a criminal was convicted, the bell would ring, which would signal that it was time for the "law-keepers," as they liked to call themselves, to take the prisoner and give him his punishment.

_Well, now I'm slightly creeped out, but I don't see what this has to do with what happened to Jay and how he had ended up there._ Tim rubs the heel of his hand against his tired eyes. _If Jay's memory wasn't beaten to a pulp right now, asking him about the place might help clean up a detail or two._ Tim glances at the clock on his phone. It's a little after 5pm. Jay should almost be done with the videos by now.

The tapes! Tim groans; he had forgotten to buy more. Slamming the books shut, Tim hurriedly gets up from the desk and makes his way towards the library's exit.

/

The store is busier than it had been in the morning, though that isn't surprising. Tim weaves his way between jabbering customers, quickly working his way to the back of the store, where the electronics are.

He finds the blank tapes easily – they have a twenty-pack, and Tim decides that would be good enough for right now. As he is walking back up the aisle, Tim notices the display of video cameras near the front of the electronics section. One of them – the one closest to Tim, actually – is very similar looking to Jay's camera. Tim approaches it and picks it up, turning it over to inspect it. It's the same brand and type, just an updated model. Tim's leg brushes against the display table, and he feels Jay's newest tape press into his skin. Reaching into his pocket, Tim pulls out the tape. He studies the tape for a moment, and then the camera.

He doesn't know why he does it. Despite his gut telling him it's a bad idea to encourage this whole recording thing, he can't help but slide the tape into the camera's slot. Maybe it's because he wants some feeling of nostalgia – from when it had been him and Jay, together, fighting this thing. Before Jay had been taken and…damaged. Back when they had an endless amount of tapes that Tim felt like he was constantly switching out of the camera and always replaying on the flip screen, studying the footage for anything useful.

Or, maybe he's just really bored.

But it's most likely because Tim wants a reason to delay himself from going back to the hotel room for a little longer – because he's not sure what state he'll find Jay in after Jay finishes watching the videos. _Coward._

The flip screen is really nice quality, Tim notes. Much better than Jay's scratched up old one. The footage picks up at the end of the tape, which looks like it had ended at about 5:03 this morning. Tim rewinds it, not sure what he's looking for. The camera is angled towards the two hotel beds, though Jay's bed on the far side of the room is more centered in the screen. Past Jay's bed is the hotel's large window; the blinds are shut, but they had not been pulled completely across the window – Tim can see about four inches of the darkness outside at the end of the blinds.

As the footage rewinds, at first it's just of Jay sleeping on the bed, and Tim sitting beside him. But then the time hits 3:48am, and Tim is standing over a sobbing Jay. Then he's sitting on his own bed, heads in his hands. It's 2:21am now, and Jay is screaming. The soundless image unnerves Tim as he watches himself try to calm his panicking friend. That's when it happens.

It's so quick Tim almost didn't catch it. A small break in the footage, at the bottom of the screen. Tim feels his stomach drop. Another break, higher this time; then, a heavy ripple of distortion runs down the entire length of the screen. Tim's breathing is shallow and uneven as he stares at the screen. He searches the tiny screen for the source and – too easily, almost – finds it.

_It _is standing there, visible in the empty window space between the blinds and the window frame. The whiteness of its featureless face stands out vividly against the darkness behind it. It simply stands there, looking in through the window, watching them. It's not even _trying _to be discreet – it's as if it's making an effort to be sure it's seen.

Tim is frozen, terrified. It found them. It found them _so easily_, so quickly. He thought he had covered their tracks decently after getting Jay –

Jay. He had left Jay alone in the hotel room. Raw, naked terror grips Tim as he rips the tape out of the camera and runs through the store. He throws a crumpled wad of bills onto the end cashier lady's register as he runs past holding the box of new tapes, ignoring the surprised shouts that follow him out the door.

He wishes he had parked closer to the store. He's slipping in-between cars, moving as fast as he can. For a second he pulls out his phone to call Jay, but then he remembers that Jay doesn't _have _a cell phone, and he stupidly didn't even think of writing down the hotel room's number. He nearly slams into his car door in his hurry to get to it; throwing open the door and tossing the tapes onto the passenger seat, he jumps in. Then he's speeding out of the parking lot back to the hotel as fast as possible.

_Please, please don't let anything happen. I swear, if anything happens…hold on, Jay._


	5. Chapter 5: Pallor

**To Ark fan:**

**I'm so flattered that you asked me to help finish that other Marble Hornets/Slenderman story, that means a lot to me! However, I must unfortunately decline the offer. I have not seen either EverymanHYBRID or Tribe Twelve, and I think I'm just going to focus on working on "Resuscitate." But if I hear of any other fellow authors who might be interested, I'll send them your way! :) Thanks again.**

/

/

"_Jay?_" Tim is shouting the name before he even has pulled the key card out of the room's door handle. "Jay!" He swings the door open, panic driving every movement. The room is dim, and quiet.

A sitting on his bed, looking slightly surprised, is Jay. Tim stumbles to a stop, staring. His terror slowly ebbs away, fading into exhausted relief. Jay looks perfectly fine; he's sitting cross-legged on the bed, granola bar wrappers strewn about him, with Tim's laptop pushed to the end of the bed.

"Tim, you alright?" Jay asks, concern in his eyes.

Tim takes a few deep breaths. _He's okay. He's okay. It's not here. It hasn't got him._ "Yeah…yeah, I'm fine." Tim rubs a hand across his face, trying to calm his heart's frantic pounding. Jay's still looking at Tim anxiously, and now that the panic has gone, Tim notices Jay's face – his eyes specifically. They're red around the edges, and slightly puffy. He had been crying.

_The entries. Right._ Tim taps the hotel keycard against his leg uncomfortably. "Hey, um…you okay? Did you finish watching…" he lets the question trail off as Jay's expression changes from concerned to something resembling a rather somber look.

Jay glances away. "Yeah. I finished them." He looks back at Tim; his eyes are so pained Tim feels as though someone had punched him in the gut. "Tim…" Jay's voice is small, broken. "I…I don't remember much else than what's on those videos. And even then, those memories don't feel like they're _my _memories. It's like they're clips of a movie – events that I watched happen, and know happened, but I didn't experience myself. Well…there are snippets here and there, of random, real memories _besides_ the entries, but they're so hazy and I have no idea where they fit into everything." He pauses for the slightest of seconds. "And I don't remember anything that's happened between when…after Alex…after Entry 80, and yesterday. I swear it."

_Damn. _Well, what was Tim expecting? For the videos to magically trigger just the right button in Jay's brain, activating everything and putting everything back to normal? The empty hopelessness within Tim seems bigger than ever before. "I believe you," Tim says, his voice tired.

"But…" Jay's continues. His voice has suddenly dropped its depressed tone, exchanged for one much stronger, almost vehement. He gets off of the bed, standing before Tim. "I just…I want to – to thank you."

Tim looks at Jay with surprise.

Jay's eyes are fierce, sparking with an intense sincerity, as they hold Tim's gaze. As though this is the most important thing he's ever going to say, and it's _vital _that Tim hears it. "Thank you. For everything you've done for me."

_Don't thank me, Jay. Nothing I've done warrants thanking. _"You mean how I attacked you multiple times, tied you up, and left you to get shot?"

"Well, those things kinda sucked. But, everything else though. And how you kept going, even after…I wasn't there. And coming back for me, years later."

Tim has never felt so uncomfortable before. He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve to be thanked – he deserves the fate Alex had tried to give him. If it weren't for him, Jay wouldn't be here _having _to thank Tim. He'd be off somewhere living a normal life, probably trying to find some kind of odd job with his film degree. Tim rubs a hand across his eyes. "Jay –"

"No, don't, Tim," Jay interrupts. "I don't want to hear it. I know what you're going to say. If watching videos taught me one thing, it's how good of a person you are, and how wrong you are in your opinion of yourself. Regardless of whatever the source of that _thing _is, blaming yourself isn't going to fix anything. You walk around with that guilt, but you still fight to keep good people safe. You're not a bad person, Tim. Alex was wrong about you – what happened to me wasn't your fault. So just stop. You're destroying yourself, and you and I already have enough damage between the both of us for about ten lifetimes. I need you, and if you break yourself, then I'll have no hope of getting through this."

Tim just stares. He has no words, no thoughts. Jay's words ring in his head, and he's not sure he knows how to process them all. He opens his mouth to speak, but it feels like his throat has just closed up. And Jay just keeps _staring_; watching with that intense gaze, as if daring Tim to try and contradict him, try and say that he's wrong. Tim swallows hard. "Jay…I…" His shoulders slump slightly in defeat. "Thank you." And he means it.

Jay smiles softly. For an uncomfortable moment, the two just stand there. Finally, Jay glances at the door leading to the hallway. "So." His voice is much lighter, more casual. Clearly trying to diffuse the awkward tension that is now strung between the two men. "What made you come bursting in here like a ghost was on your heels, anyway? Did you have that little faith in my ability to stay put?"

"No, well – yes. I pretty much have no faith in your ability to stay put." Tim's chest tightens at the reminder of why he had coming running back to the hotel. "But that's not why I was running." He takes a long breath, but after a moment realizes that there is no way to break the news gently to Jay. "It…it found us."

Immediately, Jay's face falls. Horror and confusion flash across his face until it's just disbelief there. "Wh – what? You mean, that _thing_? It's here?" Jay's already white skin pales a few shades lighter.

_Maybe that wasn't the best way to spring the news on him._ Tim tries to keep his voice steady, so as not to encourage Jay's alarm. "Yes. It was on the footage you had recorded last night."

"It was _in the room_?"

"No, no it was outside. But it was looking through the window –"

"We have to leave," Jay cuts in.

"I _know_, Jay. But you need to calm down, or we'll –"

"Calm down?" Jay exclaims, his voice cracking on the last word. "Calm down, when the last time I remember seeing that thing, it had taken me who knows where for over_ two years_ and done things to me that have turned my brain into a pulverized mess? _Shit_, Tim. Why –" But Jay's frantic shouting is suddenly cut-off by a violent coughing fit.

"Jay?"

Jay is almost bent over double, one hand covering his mouth and the other reaching out for the dresser to steady himself. The coughs are harsh, and so close together they leave no room for Jay to catch his breath.

Tim shoves his hand into his shirt pocket and pulls out his pill bottle. He rips off the cap and dumps two pills into his hand. Snatching the water bottle that had been lying on Jay's bed, he shoves both the water bottle and pills into Jay's hands. "Here, Jay!"

He almost expects Jay to argue, to refuse the pills he used to claim he did not need. But Tim has barely even finished saying Jay's name before Jay is shoving the pills into his mouth and downing the rest of the water. He coughs out some of the water, but manages to keep the pills in and swallows them with difficulty.

The coughing continues. All Tim can do is stand there, helpless, as the coughs are ripped from Jay's body. _The pills are supposed to help. They're supposed to help!_ Then gradually, agonizingly, the coughing starts to lessen. A final, weak cough escapes Jay's lips, and then he sinks to the floor, his hand sliding along the dresser drawers as he falls. Tim quickly crouches down beside him, pressing a hand against Jay's back to hold him upright.

"Jay. You okay, buddy?"

Jay is gasping, his eyes watery from the vicious coughing. He nods faintly, not bothering to lift his head to look at Tim. "Yeah…" he finally manages. "I'm fine. Thanks…" He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to catch his breath. "Is it here? It has to be close by."

Though a valid point, Jay saying it out loud sets Tim even more on edge. Tim glances around them, though he knows they would know if it was in the room with them. They are alone. "No. I don't know where it is. But we need to leave right now."

Jay just nods. He allows Tim to help pull him to his feet, but refuses to just sit while Tim packs the small amount of things they have. "I'm fine, Tim," he murmurs irritably, seemingly recovered after a few seconds. "It's just coughing, I don't need to be hospitalized."

Tim wants to argue that it's not "just coughing," but Jay is already shakily moving about the room gathering up their things, so he doesn't bother picking a fight. In less than ten minutes they've checked out and are driving out of the hotel's parking lot.

For a while they say nothing, Tim rigid in the driver's seat, and Jay wearily leaning his head against the passenger window. "Where are we going?" Jay finally asks, the words heavy.

"To another hotel."

"It's just going to find us again," Jay mutters bitterly. "It always does."

Anger fills Tim at the hopeless statement, even though he knows it's true. "Well, I'm not going to just sit around and let it find us," he says venomously. "At least I'm _trying _to keep it away from us – from _you_."

Jay bites his lip guiltily at that. "Sorry," he whispers.

Tim doesn't answer. He doesn't say it's okay, because he feels like nothing will ever be okay for them again, and he doesn't know how to face that possibility.

So they sit in silence for what seems like an endless amount of time. The road passes by quickly, and the sky lazily watches from above. The sun is starting to set, and the low colors stretching over the horizon are making Tim feel uncomfortably drowsy. He hasn't had a lot of sleep in the past few days, and that realization is just starting to come to him. He rubs his aching eyes, and grips the steering wheel tighter.

"I wonder if Jessica is where I was for the past two years."

The comment is so random, and Jay's tone of voice so eerily casual, that it throws off Tim for a minute. "I…" but he's not sure how to respond.

Jay continues as though Tim hadn't spoken. "Maybe Alex is too. I don't think Brian is though. That thing hadn't taken him like it had with Jessica, Alex, and I. At least, it hadn't up to Entry 86. I wonder why it didn't." Jay's tone of voice unnerves Tim. He's talking as though asking Tim what the weather is going to be tomorrow. There's almost no emotion to his words, just a casual, neutral overtone. "Maybe it doesn't bother with dead people. Maybe we still have to be clinging to some sort of life when it takes us. So it can…torture us, or whatever it does to us when it takes us." Jay picks at a stray thread on the car seat absently. "But then…it took that hiker Alex had killed –"

"Jay," Tim says sharply. "Enough." He gives Jay a stern look, and is disturbed to see that Jay doesn't seem bothered in the least by the interruption. He looks like he'll never be bothered by anything again.

Jay just shrugs and continues to look out the window.

A few minutes pass, each feeling agonizingly slow in the silence. Then, Tim can't hold back the question any longer. Not now that Jay's brought the place up. He knows he's going to contradict what he _just _said to Jay, but…he has to know. "Do you…do you remember anything, since you've seen the entries? About where you were for the past two years?"

He expects Jay to be pissed. Or scared. Or have _some_ sort of reaction. But Jay just keeps staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by with slight interest. "No," Jay finally answers. "Or at least, not consciously. I think I dream about it, though. I don't remember what's in the dreams though…I never do, when they're about that place."

The answer isn't comforting. Then again, how is any answer to that question going to be comforting? Tim can't think of anything that would be appropriate to say to Jay's answer, so he doesn't say anything at all. Jay doesn't seem to except a response, so they both fall back into silence.

It's almost dark by the time Tim picks a place he feels satisfied with. It's a dinky little motel just off of the highway; a small room with a broken ac unit and bed sheets that looks like they haven't had a good washing in years. But Jay doesn't complain, he simply drops Tim's backpack to the floor and sits on one of the beds, staring at his ratty shoes in exhaustion.

It's then that Tim notices that Jay's camera is no where to be seen. "Hey – where's the camera?"

Jay gestures to the backpack.

"You, uh, don't want to be recording?"

Jay shakes his head. He seems a little more normal now that the drive is over. Whatever had been affecting him in the car seems to have subsided a bit, though Tim can't imagine what could have helped. Maybe just getting away from the previous hotel had been enough to calm him down.

"You were right," Jay responds. "Watching those entries…I made everything worse by getting those tapes from Alex and then filming my search for him – for everything. It's almost like that thing is drawn to the camera…I don't know, that sounds stupid. I just don't want to use it right now."

Tim can't say he's not relieved that Jay's finally stopped obsessing over the thing, but he still feels off-put at what Jay had said. He can tell that Jay is disturbed by what he had watched on those entries, but he's not sure what to say about them to Jay. Does Jay even _want _to talk to him about them? He's terrible at reading people when it comes to things like this, and the whole situation is just plain uncomfortable to begin with. But…he can't not say _something_.

"Hey, Jay." Jay looks up wearily from his seat on his bed. "Are…are you okay? Do you want to talk about the entries at all? Or anything from them that seems unclear?"

The shadow of a sad smile crosses Jay's face; it's clear he knows what Tim is trying to do. "No. Thanks, Tim. I just, I need to sort out everything in my head right now."

Tim nods in understanding. It falls quiet in the room as Tim drops his duffel bag at the foot of his bed. He drops onto the bed and lies there on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"So…" Jay says after a while. "Now what?"

Tim tilts his head so his eyes swerve over to Jay's hunched form.

Jay glances at Tim. "I mean, what's our plan? Do we even _have_ a plan? Last time it was about defeating Alex…I think. I don't know, it felt like we were just constantly running in circles. And now…now what? Alex isn't here anymore, but that _thing _still is. Are we supposed to kill it? Can it even _be _killed?" Jay groans in frustration and buries his face in his hands.

Tim frowns as he considers Jay's questions. He has a point – what _is _their plan? He sits up slowly. "Well, I've been trying to find out more information on the place I found you in. Maybe try to figure out how you got there, and then, where you've been this whole time. But even if we do figure that out, I don't see what good it'll do us."

But Jay looks interested. "Tell me what you've found out so far."

So Tim tells him about the research he's done on the place, and how Alex's story ties into it all. Jay focuses intently on everything Tim says, his eyes both attentive and thinking. "Well," he says once Tim's finished. "We have to go back there."

Tim looks at Jay in surprise. "Seriously? You want to go back?"

"We're going to have to eventually, aren't we?"

"Well yeah, but I thought that since that's where you were…"

"Dropped off by my apparent rescuer?" Jay finishes. "That's exactly why I want to go there. There has to be _something _there that can help answer our questions." Despite Jay's fervor, Tim can see the shadow of apprehension behind Jay's eyes. But he also sees the determination there, and knows talking Jay out of it isn't an option.

Tim shrugs. "Alright, sure. Let's go tomorrow." He pauses, and glances at his backpack. "I think we should take the camera, though."

Jay's face drops slightly at that. "I'd rather not…"

Tim almost wants to laugh. "And this is the person who demanded more tapes this morning."

"That was before I saw all the damage I had done with that stupid thing!" Jay exclaims. "I just, I don't see why we need it."

"Because if your paranoia hadn't insisted that the camera be on last night, we would have never known that that thing had found us," Tim snaps. He notices the slightly deflated look on Jay's face and softens his voice. "Look, I just think that – for now – it might be best to keep it with us. It might see something we don't, and that could be a huge help in figuring all of this out."

"And _this_ is coming from the person who was whining about me having the thing for the past few days…" Jay mutters.

"Yeah, well, seeing a faceless monster creeping in on you at 3am is bound to change a person's opinion on some things," Tim replies irritably.

Jay shoots Tim an annoyed look. "Fine. Whatever. We'll take it with us."

"Good."

"Awesome."

Tim rolls his eyes. "I'm setting the camera up, and then I'm going to bed."

/

The night passes without incident. If Jay had had any nightmares, Tim wasn't aware of them. Either because Jay had been quiet, or because Tim's exhaustion had finally caught up enough that he slept solidly for most of the night. He hopes it's because there had been no nightmares period.

They wake up early the next morning. Tim notices that Jay's still stuck in his borrowed pair of clothes and says that they should probably get him some clothing of his own because they go back to Rosswood, in case they don't have time later. They stop at a cheap department store and Jay finds a few pairs of clothes that fight him well enough. Tim makes him get a new pair of sneakers too, since the ones Jay is wearing look like they're about to fall of his feet. Jay insists on paying for the items himself, but quickly realizes that he has no way _to _pay for them. He can't remember if he had left his wallet in his car's glove compartment or if it had been in his jeans pocket the day he had confronted Alex in Benedict Hall. It hadn't been on him when Tim had found him, and who the hell knows what happened to his car (he was fairly pissed when Tim embarrassingly admitted to just abandoning the car), so he has to accept Tim's offer to pay for it all.

"I promise, I'll pay you back as soon as I can," Jay reassures Tim – for about the fifth time – as they get into Tim's car.

"Jay, I swear, if you don't shut up about your stupid clothes, I'm going to punch you in the face."

"That's mature," Jay snaps. But despite his efforts to look mad, the gratitude is still clear on his face.

They don't say much during the drive to Rosswood Park, both too lost in their own thoughts. It's still about mid-morning when they reach the park, and the day is as bright as it was when Tim had found Jay. Jay holds the camera at chest-level as they walk down Judge's Trail, pointing it at the passing tree lines. Both of them are armed with pocket knives they had picked up at the department store (it was Tim's idea, "just in case," he had said). Despite this, neither can shake the feeling of unease that's settled upon them as they walk deeper into Rosswood.

The hike to the trial site is uneventful; not once do they hear or see any sign of someone following them. The trial site itself looks like it hasn't been touched since Tim and Jay had left it before. The two buildings stand empty and open, and the bell peaks up between the grass blades attentively. Tim and Jay crouch on either side of the bell, Tim giving Jay more room so Jay can record the thing with the camera.

"I wonder how old it is," Jay muses as he sweeps the camera over the outside of the bell.

"At least over one hundreds years old, if it matches up with the time that town was here," Tim comments, studying the brim of the bell. "Probably closer to one hundred and fifty years." He pauses. "Hey, I think there's something engraved on the inside of the bell's brim." Jay shifts his position and moves the camera so it's looking inside the bell. "There." Tim points at where the bell is embedded in the dirt. He pulls out his cell phone and aims its light at the indicated area. There, a row of engraved letters and numbers can be seen in.

"_G. W. Almonde – 1838_," Jay reads. "Geez, this thing is old. G. W. Alomnde…I'm assuming that's a name?"

"The bell maker maybe?" Tim suggests.

"Probably." Jay studies the bell a bit longer, then sits back on his heels. "I think that's all we're gonna find out about the bell here. Should we look at the buildings?"

"Yeah, I guess." Tim stands and brushes the dirt and leaves off of his pants, Jay following suit.

The smaller building Tim had found Jay in is closer, but Tim hangs back a few steps, allowing Jay to decide if he wants to go into that building first or leave it for later. Jay heads towards the smaller building, seemingly unconcerned.

The floor is still covered in leaves and other litter, but a lot of it has noticeable signs of being moved about – the only traces that Jay and Tim had been here a few days prior. The two search, and find nothing of importance in the building. Nor is there any sight of the mysterious cell phone Jay had called Tim with.

The larger building – the one that used to be the "courthouse" – is just as damaged as the smaller one. It's hard to tell which building the fire had started in, since the level of damage is so close. The door is missing from the larger building as well, as is several planks from the walls and ceiling. Sunlight filters through the openings, spilling onto the floor and casting odd shadows on the walls. It looks as though there had once been two parallel sections of long, wooden pews filing up the building to its front. Most of the pews had been burned or – oddly enough – look as though they had been intentionally destroyed through blunt force. The rotting walls are bare, and the few windows that line them are empty, their glass panes having long been shattered. At the front of the building is a low platform.

Jay and Tim walk through the building cautiously, Jay trying to film as much of the place as possible. Nothing seems to be of interest…until they reach the platform. They both freeze, staring.

"Holy shit," Tim finally mutters.

In the center of the platform – streaked in white paint – is the symbol. The symbol that has haunted them for years – the circle with the "X" stricken through it. And in the center of the "X" lies a plain white doll, much like the one Jay had found in Brian's house so long ago.

"I guess we're expected," Jay says darkly.

"Thanks, Jay, I really needed that said out loud." Tim runs a hand through his hair. He begins to spin on his heel, scanning the building. Then he halts, his eyes widening.

Standing in the doorway at the opposite end of the building is a man. He is wearing jeans, black gloves, and a high-collared black jacket with a single white stripe on the left upper arm. Over his face is a black and white mask painted to look like a skull.

"Hey!" Tim shouts, breaking into a run. Immediately, the masked man turns and bolts away from the building.

By the time Tim makes it through the doorway, the masked man is already half-way across the clearing. Tim rushes after him, Jay's following shouts faint over the pounding in his ears. The masked man ignores Judge's Trail and inside runs into the thick woods, Tim in pursuit. Branches scrape Tim's face and tug at his clothes, as though trying to hold him back. But he pushes past, never breaking his eyes away from the running figure in front of him.

"Stop!" he yells, knowing he won't get an answer. The masked man doesn't slow at all, and neither does Tim. In fact, for a while Tim is sure he is gaining on the man. But then, a vicious wave of pain slashes through his head, making him cry out and halt in his tracks, clutching his forehead. When the wave passes, he looks up; the man has disappeared. Growling in frustration, Tim starts to run forward, but is stopped again by another blow of pain. He falls to his knees, his hands pressed against both sides of his head as he tries to stifle the agony. But the pain continues, steadily growing more intense with every wave.

He's vaguely aware of a voice calling his name in the distance. But before he can try to think of who could be calling for him, his chest tightens and he begins to cough harshly. Panic shoots through him, and his mind is screaming for him to _move_ and get out of there. But he can't. He tries to climb to his feet, but falls onto his hands and knees, hacking and gasping. His vision is blurring, and a dull buzzing starts to sound in his ears.

He feels its presence before he sees it. He lifts his head, the effort to do so agonizing, and terror clenches his body. There it stands, not twelve feet from him. Its head is tilted slightly, as though studying Tim with vague interest. It does not move, does not reach for him. It simply stares.

Tim tastes copper in his mouth and coughs out a slippery wet substance. He can't remember what the substance is called. He hears his name ringing in the back of his mind. But it's not his voice that's shouting it.

_Jay_. The name hazily registers in his mind. Then, blackness takes him and he knows nothing more.


	6. Chapter 6: Transmission

It felt like waking up after being that _thing_. After wearing that mask and doing who knows what in the odd hours of the night. The pain rolls through his head mercilessly, and he feels nauseous. For a slight moment Tim panics in his confusion – had he been wearing the mask? What had he done? He wrenches his eyes open with a gasp.

He's lying on his back, staring up at the night sky. Stars speckle the inky blackness, and the ends of tree branches reach out from the corners of Tim's vision. He blinks and takes a deep breath, the smell of wet dirt and pine filling his nostrils. He feels something plastered on his skin leading from his nostril to the brim of his upper lip; he touches his fingers there and pulls them away, along with dried blood.

Then it all comes back. The trial site, the man in the skeleton mask, and the suited creature. _Jay!_ Tim tries to shove himself into a sitting position; the motion makes him dizzy and he lies there on his side with his eyes closed, trying to resist the urge to throw up. When the feeling has passed, he shakily climbs to his feet.

"Jay?" he calls out weakly into the darkness. "Jay!" He digs into his pocket, pulling out his phone to use it as a flashlight. But the battery is dead, despite it being fully charged when he and Jay had gone into Rosswood that morning. Shoving the now useless device back into his pocket, he waits for his eyes to adjust to the low light that the moon provides. He turns around slowly, studying his surroundings. He stops, chills spilling through his body.

The tunnel looms before him, its open mouth pitch black in the night. Tim stumbles a few steps backwards, bracing himself to run. But then his eyes catch sight of a huddled form lying just inside of the entrance of the tunnel. He squints his eyes into the darkness, but can't make out what it is. Cautiously, he takes a few steps forward. Now more than ever he wishes he had some source of light. He stops three feet from the form, narrowing his eyes to try and make out what it is.

"Jay?" he stutters. He rushes forward the final few feet and drops to his knees beside the body. "Jay, buddy? Can you hear me?"

Jay is lying on his side, facing away from Tim. His eyes are closed, but to Tim's relief he can't see signs of blood anywhere on Jay. "Jay! Come on, wake up!"

Jay's eyes flutter open; he winces, pain flickering across his face. "Wha –" he shakes his head dully. "Where…wh…Tim?" he looks up at the form bending over him. "What happened?" he asks, the words slurred in his groggy state.

"That thing showed up," Tim answers ruefully. He keeps one hand on Jay's back, helping him sit up. "I was chasing the man in the skeleton mask when it appeared. Were you behind me? Where were you?"

Jay presses a hand to his forehead, his face scrunched up in pain. "Yeah…yeah I think I was. I think I was following you." He groans. "I don't really remember though." He blinks, and looks around him drowsily. "Where's the camera?"

Tim twists his body around, searching. "I don't – oh." He points to where the camera lies a few feet from them. It's angled so it had been recording both of them in their unconscious state. Tim unsteadily stands and helps pull Jay to his feet. Together they walk over to the camera.

Jay picks it up. "It's still recording," he comments, turning the camera over.

"Charming," Tim mutters. He glances about them warily. "Let's just go."

Jay nods. He pats his jeans pocket, confusion on his face. "Hey…my pocket knife is gone."

Tim checks his own pocket. "Mine is too. Awesome. And we just bought those." A sudden thought crosses his mind, and he shoves his hand into his shirt pocket. Horror fills him when he feels nothing there. "The bastard took my medicine!" he growls. He gives a nearby rock a vicious kick, sending it flying into the tree line. "I swear, when I get my hands on that masked freak…"

Jay decides it's best not to say anything relating to the subject of "masked freaks," so he simply adjusts the night vision on the camera and lifts it to chest-level, pointing it into the seemingly still woods. "Come on, Tim," he says quietly. "We're doing no good just standing here."

Tim doesn't respond. Fuming, he stalks off in the general direction of the pathway that will eventually lead them back to the parking lot. Jay follows silently.

It's fairly difficult to trek through the woods with so little moonlight filtering through the trees, but Jay eventually takes the lead, using the camera's night vision to help see. They've only gone for about ten minutes when Jay throws out his arm, stopping Tim.

"What?" Tim snaps, still wound up in thoughts over his missing medicine.

"I heard something…" Jay replies, his voice low.

Immediately the muscles in Tim's body tighten, and for a moment his rage at the masked man is forgotten. "You sure?" he whispers.

Jay nods silently, swinging his camera from side-to-side, searching. Tim glances around them, straining to hear any sounds. A few seconds pass, and the only thing they can hear is the distant chirping of crickets.

"We should keep moving, Jay," Tim says in a low voice.

Jay hesitates, taking another sweep of the woods in front of them with his camera. But then he continues forward, his step much more cautious than before. They haven't even moved ten feet when Jay hears it again. A crack. A subtle rustle of leaves. And this time, Tim hears it too.

"Should we run?" Jay whispers.

"If it's that masked jerk, I'd like to give him a proper greeting…"

"Shut _up_, Tm, I'm trying to hear," Jay hisses. And then, "Oh no…"

Tim looks over at Jay, who is staring at the flip screen of the camera. Tim leans forward to do so also and when he sees what it is, feels his stomach drop. A break in the footage, followed by a few lines of static rolling down the screen.

"_Shit_," Tim mutters. The crunching footsteps behind them are much closer now. "Forget it," Tim says, not bothering to lower his voice anymore. "_Run!_"

Immediately, Jay bursts into a run, Tim not a moment behind him. Branches claw at their arms, vines swipe at their necks, and roots try to ensnare their feet. Yet they stumble on, Jay leading Tim with the camera held up in front of him. Their heavy breathing and pounding feet seem deafeningly loud to their ears, blocking out almost any other sounds. But vaguely over that, they can make out the noises of someone following them. The brush behind them seems alive as branches are shoved aside and the footsteps of their pursuer get louder, closer.

Then, Tim's foot gets caught in a slight indentation in the ground. Before he can register what is happening, he feels himself tumbling forward, and throws his hands out to protect himself as he crashes to the ground. Not even a second has passed when a dark figure bursts through the bushes behind him and lunges right at Tim.

Tim shoves himself to the side, still trying to catch his breath from the fall. The figure stumbles forward into thin air, but quickly recovers. He snaps his head towards Tim, his skeleton mask reflecting dully in the dim moonlight.

Tim pushes himself to his feet. The masked man straightens, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a knife. He flips open the blade, and Tim immediately recognizes the knife as his. He grits his teeth, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. The masked man jumps forward, swiping the knife at Tim's mid-section. Tim throws himself to the side and tries to knock the man's arm holding the knife upwards, but the man steps back, pulling it out of Tim's reach. He quickly swings the blade around. Tim tries to maneuver his hand around the weapon and grasp the masked man's arm, but is too slow. The knife slices along his forearm about three inches before Tim stumbles backwards with a hiss of pain.

The masked man advances, and Tim looks wildly about him for something to use as a weapon. The man prepares to lunge again, and Tim braces himself. But then there is the sound of something like a muffled crack, and the man's shoulder snaps to the side, causing him to stagger into a nearby tree. Surprise shooting through him, Tim jerks his gaze to the left – and sees Jay standing in front of a tangle of bushes, his hand that had just thrown a rather large rock still poised in the air.

"Sorry I took so long," Jay says breathlessly. Tim runs over to Jay's side, and the two re-focus their attention on the masked man.

Giving his head a hard shake, the man turns his body to face Tim and Jay. But he doesn't advance.

"Guess he doesn't like being out-numbered," Tim mutters. "Come on, let's take him."

"Tim…" Jay says. He hasn't even finished saying Tim's name when Tim feels it. The tightening of his chest, the sparking of pain in his head. He glances wildly at Jay, who's staring at the camera's flip screen; it's completely ravaged by distortion. Tim, Jay, and the masked man all suddenly turn their attention to the right; there, standing distantly among the trees, is the creature.

"Tim, let's go!" Jay shouts. Tim glances back at where the masked man had been; he is no longer there, though Tim can hear the faint sounds of someone running in the opposite direction that the creature is in. Jay is pulling desperately at Tim's sleeve, and the next second the two are running through the woods once again.

They don't look back to see if the creature is following. They simply run, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Their lungs are burning, and every once in a while they hack out ragged coughs, but they do not stop. It feels like they run for hours, but finally they reach the edge of the woods. Bursting through the tree line, the two gradually slow to a walk, gasping for breath.

"Is – is it – following us?" Tim manages between wheezes.

Jay looks behind them and shakes his head. "I don't – think so."

Tim glances back himself, then nods slightly. "Let's go."

They hurry back to Tim's car, which waits for them in a pool of orange light provided by the streetlight above it.

"What time is it?" Tim asks as they pull out of the parking lot.

Jay tilts his head slightly to look at the time on the car radio. "Five to nine."

Tim presses his lips into a hard line. "We were out of it for a while."

Jay just nods. He places the camera on the dashboard, turning it so it's filming the road in front of them. He coughs weakly, his body shuddering. Then his eyes catch sight of the dark line of blood running down Tim's forearm. "You're bleeding," he says, almost deadpan in his exhaustion.

Tim glances at his arm. "Oh. Yeah. That masked man nicked me just before you came. But it doesn't hurt – it's really shallow."

"We should bandage it."

"It's pretty much stopped bleeding. The blood is just caked on my arm now. It's fine."

"Don't you have a first aid kit in here?"

"Don't worry about it, Jay. I'll clean up at the motel." Tim grimaces, and he gives a short cough. "Fuck. I can't believe that bastard took my medicine. Well, I can _believe _it, but that doesn't make me any less pissed about it." He bangs his head against the seat's headrest.

"Do you have any extras back at the hotel?" Jay asks.

"They're in a lockbox in the false bottom of my car's trunk," Tim answers. "I probably should've gotten some out before we drove off, but getting away from Rosswood seemed more important at the time."

"It's fine," Jay says.

Tim grunts in frustration. "Even with the extras, I don't have a lot left." He sighs. "I wish there was someway we could get _you _to a doctor so you could get some. Just so I know there will be enough for you too. And don't even think about saying you don't need the help." He casts Jay a stern glance.

"I wasn't going to," Jay says. He rubs a hand across his eyelids wearily. "I think being kidnapped by that thing for two years is enough to make a person understand when they need help."

Hearing Jay admit to needing help doesn't make Tim feel the way he had hoped it would. Instead of satisfied or relieved, he feels uneasy, sad even. Sad that Jay sounds so resigned to his fate – that he believes that he is finally "damaged" enough to need the help. It disturbs Tim. It's as though the last of the fight within Jay has been torn out of him, as though whatever happened to him over the past two and a half years succeeded in finally breaking him.

"I don't think I even _can _get a prescription though," Jay says, jolting Tim out of his thoughts. "I mean, don't you need an address, a phone number – those kinds of things for prescription medicine? I don't have any of that. I don't have an ID card – nothing. It's like…I don't really exist in the world. I mean, I'm _here_, but, I can't _prove _who I am…I don't even have an identity anymore." The hopelessness in Jay's voice is almost overwhelming.

Tim's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Jay, it's going to be okay."

Jay doesn't answer. He simply turns to the window and focuses all of his body and attention on the passing darkness outside.

They stop at a small convenience store to buy some gauze and other medical supplies for future needs. When they get back to the motel, neither feels much like sleeping. After wrapping his arm, Tim decides he needs a long smoke "to think," and allows Jay to borrow his laptop while he does so.

Sitting on the cement curb just outside of their motel room, Tim takes a slow drag from his cigarette, allowing the smoke to flow through him lazily. It relaxes him, and he blows it out carefully, staring up at the night sky. Every few seconds or so he scans the edge of the parking lot, searching the distant trees for anything moving in the shadows.

"Tim?"

Tim breaks his gaze away from the trees, twisting around to see the thin form of Jay standing in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"I think you should see this." There's concern in Jay's voice, but – to Tim's surprise – there's also anger. A lot of anger, actually. Tim frowns.

"Yeah." Tim flicks the cigarette to the ground and grinds it out. "Yeah, sure." He gets up and follows Jay back into the motel room, closing the door behind him. "What's wrong?"

Jay gestures to the laptop sitting on the motel bed. Tim approaches it cautiously, sending Jay a questioning glance. As he pulls it towards him, Jay begins talking.

"I went onto the Marble Hornets account to check for anything new from totheark. While I was on it, I noticed that there were a lot of unread messages in the inbox. I was browsing through them and…well, see for yourself."

His frown deepening, Tim focuses on the laptop screen and sees about a dozen or so messages, all opened and already read by Jay. He clicks on the first one.

...

9/2/14

_Tim,_

_I'm so sorry to bother you. I know you probably don't check this channel anymore, but I don't know what else to do. I…I think I've seen that thing. That thing that followed you and Jay. I don't know, it's always just out of my line of vision, and I can't afford a camera so I don't know if…I don't know. Is it following me? I'm so scared. I don't know what to do._

_Lila_

_..._

12/14/14

_Tim,_

_I think that thing is following me now. I've tried catching it on film, but most of my footage is so blurry or distorted that I can't get a good picture of it to send to you. I don't know if you have any advice for me. I don't want to admit this, but…I'm kinda freaking out, man._

_Get back to me if you can._

_Mike_

_..._

5/22/15

_Tim,_

_It's about my little sister, May. She's only eight, but she keeps telling me about this "faceless man" that's been "keeping watch over her" for a few months now. It's really beginning to freak me out. I really hope I'm wrong, but I don't know…could it be that thing that followed you and Jay? You said you experienced things like this when you were a kid. Is there any advice you can give me? I'm so worried about May._

_Becky_

_..._

The other messages in the inbox are similar in content – all about seeing a faceless creature similar to the one that had stalked Tim and Jay. The messages get more heavily spaced out as the months go on, the most recent one sent about five months ago.

Tim stares in horror at the messages. This couldn't be right – he has _stopped _the disease from spreading. He had contained it to himself…and Jessica. "I…" He's at a loss of words. What is supposed to say? What _can _he say?

"Have you checked this channel at _all _since you had uploaded Entry 86?" Jay demands.

Tim's mouth is dry. His throat feels closed up, and he can't speak.

"These people have been asking for help for _years_, and you just ignored them?" Jay's voice is white hot with anger. "You didn't even bother to check _once_, to see if anyone had messaged you? Don't you get email notifications about new YouTube messages?" His words take on a more malicious tone. "Or did you just delete them right away without bothering to check what they were about?"

Finally Tim finds his voice. "I didn't ignore them _on purpose_, Jay," he snaps, hurt and guilt coursing through him. "I would never have if I had known what the messages were about. I…yes, I did delete the notifications. I didn't want anything else to do with it." Seeing Jay's furious expression, Tim feels anger of his own rise up. "You had _died_, Jay! You were _killed_, and taken by that thing! And it was _my fault_. I thought I had contained the disease the best I could after that – short of killing myself. So yes, I ignored the channel. I didn't want anything else to do with it. I couldn't. Yes, I know it was a childish thing to do, and _I'm sorry_. I just – _fuck_." He runs both hands through his hair, gripping the ends of the black locks tightly. "I fucked up. I'm sorry. That's all I can say. Nothing else I say is going to change this."

The fury in Jay's face is still prevalent, and the muscles in his body taunt. "I know you're sorry, Tim. I can understand why you deleted the notifications but…_still_, Tim. I mean…this is bad. This is _really_ bad."

"Don't you think I know that?" Tim asks viciously.

"I just _said _I understood, Tim!" Jay retorts, his voice rising. "But that doesn't make up for the fact that there are a _lot _of people out there who have been needing your help for _years_ and –"

"_My _help?" Tim shoves the laptop away, standing to his full height. "Why does it have to be _my _help?"

"Because you were the only one left!"

"_Exactly!_ I was the only one left, Jay. I had no where to go, no one to go _to_. It was just me. You were gone, Brian was gone. What was I supposed to do?"

Jay runs a hand through his hair, making a noise of frustration. "I don't know. I don't fucking know." He pulls his hand away, his eyes draining of their anger and filling up with raw hopelessness. "There's so many of them," he says, his tone quiet, horrified, almost. "What are we supposed to do?"

Tim rubs the back of his head, gritting his teeth. "I don't know, Jay."

"We have to find them," Jay says suddenly, hard determination taking over. "We have to help them."

"Those messages are years old, Jay."

"So?" Jay snaps. "That doesn't mean it still isn't stalking them. It followed us for _years_." He gives a bitter, harsh laugh. "It still is!"

"_Exactly_. It's following _us_ right now. It's pre-occupied with us, which means the others are safe – for now. We need to focus on finding out how you got back here –"

"How that's going to help anything?" Jay demands. "No one cares how I got back here, and it's certainly not going to help those people –"

"_I care_," Tim grinds out. At that Jay stops. "_I_ fucking care how you got back. I want to know where you've been. I want to know why you've been alive this whole time, and how I didn't know. I should've known. I should've…_fuck_, Jay."

Jay's shoulders slump slightly. "Tim…"

Tim avoids Jay's gaze. "I know figuring that out isn't going to help those people. I know it's selfish of me. We should be finding a way to destroy that thing – if that's even possible. But…I don't know. If we can keep it focused on us at least…"

Jay watches Tim with a pained expression.

"Just…please, Jay. We just need to…" Tim stops and looks about him helplessly. "I don't even know what we need to do."

After a moment, Jay sighs. "Look, I have no idea where we need to go to find more information on how I got back to Rosswood. We tried searching the trial site, and that didn't turn out how we'd been hoping at all. There was nothing there. You've researched all you can on it…I just, I don't know what else we can do about it. But – these people, they need our help, Tim. I just think we'd do a lot better contacting them –"

"How are we going to help them?" Tim cuts in. "We don't even know how to help _ourselves_. What are we going to say to them? 'Just take some medicine, that's about all we've been doing so…good luck?' Come on, Jay."

"It's better than just abandoning them!"

Tim scoffs. "Right. Fine, whatever. Go ahead and try to contact them, Jay. If that's going to make you feel better. But it's not going to make a difference." Spinning on his heel, he walks over to the door leading to the parking lot, throws it open, and storms off into the night.

/

It's almost one in the morning when Tim gets back to the room. For hours he had simply walked up and down the stretch of highway next to the motel. Smoking cigarette after cigarette and trying to form some sort of clear train of thought. But all he could feel was anger, confusion, and guilt. A lot of guilt. How could it have spread? He had done everything to make sure it was contained. And it had all been for nothing. Now even _more _people are in danger because of him.

He's so wrapped up in guilt and anger that he doesn't even bother to keep himself aware of his surroundings. Subtly, Tim knows it is an incredibly stupid decision to walk alone at night for so long. He knows it's reckless, even selfish of him. But it just doesn't seem to matter right now.

Fortunately the night seems as still as ever, and it remains uneventful as he finally opens up the motel room door and steps into the dimness. Jay is asleep on his bed, propped up against the wooden backboard with a pillow, with Tim's laptop open next to him. A quick glance at the screen and Tim can see that Jay had replied to every single message sent. Unsurprisingly, there are no responses yet.

Shutting the laptop, Tim kicks off his shoes and drops onto his bed with a tired groan. It is a long while before sleep comes to him.

/

"So what now?" Jay asks stiffly, pulling on one of his shoes.

It's early morning, and the two are packing up to leave the motel. Jay had woken up a few hours before Tim, and had spent the time looking through the footage they had filmed of themselves so far. There had been nothing unusual to report.

Tim looks over at Jay, who seems to be careful to avoid his gaze. The tension is awkward between the two, and Tim turns away from Jay before answering. "I don't know." He grits his teeth. "You were right – we have nothing to go on about figuring out what…happened to you." He bites his lip, hating to say what's next, but knowing there is nothing else to do. "So maybe…maybe we should try and find those people who had contacted us."

Jay looks at Tim in surprise. "Seriously?"

Tim tightens his jaw. "Yeah. I don't know what else we can do right now."

Jay nods, considering. "But…won't that thing follow us to them? After what you said about it being drawn to us…"

Tim shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. But, it's already found them, right? I mean, that sounds kinds harsh, but, if they want the help…"

Jay blows out a puff of air. "Sure, yeah, I guess we can do it. I'll check and see if anyone's replied to my messages."

"I'll take this stuff out to the car."

Jay just nods absently as he pulls Tim's laptop over to him. Tim slings his backpack over his shoulder and grabs the handle of his duffel bag, making his way outside to the parking lot. He starts walking past the driver's door, popping the trunk lid with his remote key. But he stops, spinning around to stare through the windows of the car. Dropping the bags to the asphalt, Tim hurriedly unlocks the car and wrenches the driver's door open.

Scattered throughout the entire inside of the car, covering the seats and floors, are dozens of white pages. And scrawled over every one are sporadic scribbles written in black marker; odd drawings, jerkily written words, and that _symbol_ – everywhere.

_LIAR_

_HOW_

_RETRIBUTION_

_CAN_

_COMES_

_HE_

_DECEIVER_

_TRUST_

_WHO'S TO_

_YOU_

_BLAME_

And lying on top of all the papers, in the center of the driver's seat, is a photo. Tim picks it up carefully, coldness running through him, almost choking him at the sight of it all. It's a photo of him, from last night. Wandering along the highway, smoking, and completely ignorant to any danger around him. Tim flips over the photo.

_WATCH YOUR BACK_

Tim throws the photo onto the pile of papers, breathing hard. The next second he's frantically gathering them up and stuffing them into a nearby garbage bin. When the car is empty of the papers, Tim throws the bags into the trunk and slams it shut, his chest heaving. He braces his arms against the car, blinking hard to try and rid himself of the words that seem burned into his eyes. It takes a long minute, but his heart finally calms down enough that he feels he can walk back into that motel room and act as though nothing had happened.

So he does. He walks in, and sees Jay sitting on his unmade bed, excitement on his face. "Someone replied! I can't believe they did so fast!" He tilts the laptop screen towards Tim, pointing at the new message.

...

_Tim? Is this really you?_

_My gosh, I can't believe you replied. It's been so long…where have you been? Sorry...that's not my business._

_But yes, if you can, I'll take any advice you can give me. My sister, May, she's almost ten now. But her…"friend" as she calls it…she can still see it. It hasn't been as frequent as of late, but…I'm so scared for her. She'll wake up screaming from nightmares, and sometimes doesn't remember things normal kids her age should have no problem remembering. Like where we had gone earlier that day, or what her favorite doll's name is. My parents think it's just a thing some kids her age go through when having trouble adjusting to a new school grade or something, because nothing _too_ severe has happened yet. But they're wrong – I know they are._

_Please help her._

_Becky_

_..._

"Where do they live?" Tim asks after finishing the message. His heart feels as heavy as ever, but his decision has been made. Though he wants nothing more than to figure out what had happened to Jay, after reading Becky's call for help, he realizes what is more important right now. And he despises himself for hating what the answer is.

"I don't know," Jay admits. "I'll have to message her and ask. Wait." He looks up at Tim with embarrassed – but hopeful – eyes. "Are you saying…do you…will you come with me?"

Tim sighs. "Well, since I have the car, I don't know how else you expect to get there."

A shy smile breaks out onto Jay's face. "Thanks, Tim."

Tim shrugs. "Yeah, well, someone has to watch out for your dumb ass."

Jay snorts. "Thanks," he repeats, this time the word laced with much more sarcasm. But the look in his eyes is so grateful, that the remaining tension from their fight last night seems to fall away. For the most part, at least.

Tim allows a small smile of his own to slide across his mouth. It's more of a reassurance for Jay than anything else. "Okay, send your message, then let's go eat something. I'm starving, and I demand eggs and coffee. No more of this granola bar and trail mix bullshit."

"Agreed," Jay says, already typing away on the laptop.

They find a small café not far from the motel. It's small, and rather dingy in appearance, but the food is both cheap and passable, so it's good enough for them.

"Holy crap," Jay says in surprise, staring at the laptop screen, which is pushed to the side of the table. The camera sits beside it, recording.

"What?"

"She's close – _really _close. She's only about a three hour drive from here. Actually, probably a little less than that."

"That's really close?"

"Better than being in Arizona or something."

"True." Tim picks at the slightly burnt crust on his toast. "I wonder if they're all close."

Jay looks up at Tim with a questioning gaze.

"I mean, at first I thought they'd be spaced out all over the country," Tim continues. "But it's like a disease, right? And if it…started with me…then it has to spread out from that starting point, right? So it's going to take time to spread out from Alabama."

"Makes sense," Jay says, taking a sip of his coffee. "I wonder how it's spreading."

"Well, it latched onto Alex when I got into Marble Hornets. So I think the infected person has to meet the new 'victim' – or whatever you want to call it – in person for that thing to attach itself to them." He pauses, thinking. "But I don't ever remember meeting a 'Becky' or 'May' before. Or anyone else from that list."

"Maybe it was a subtle meeting, something in passing," Jay suggests.

"Or maybe they know someone who's known me at some point." Tim frowns. "But then that other person could be infected too."

"Yeah, I guess." Jay sets down the now-empty coffee mug, and flicks a torn piece of a sugar packet partway across the table. He glances out between the thin blinds rolled over the window to the right of the booth they're sitting at, scanning the parking lot.

"Fuck," Tim mutters, getting Jay's attention again. "I mean, I thought I had contained it. I thought I had stopped this thing. Instead, it's grown for years, without me even knowing it. I should've…maybe I should've just…done what Alex –"

"Don't," Jay cuts in, his voice hard. "Don't you dare. Don't let what Alex said get into your head. He was…messed up. That person whom you confronted in Benedict Hall, who…shot me…that wasn't Alex. Alex was dead long before that. That…._monster_ was the one that was behind everything Alex was doing."

"Not in the end," Tim says tiredly. "Somehow, Alex broke away from it. To some degree, at least. He was trying to stop it. By killing us – and eventually himself – off, he thought he was containing it." Tim rubs a hand over his forehead. "What Alex told me to do – that was him. He knew it was the best chance we had at stopping this thing."

"Well he was wrong," Jay snaps viciously. Tim's gaze jerks to Jay in surprise. But Jay is already looking away, slight embarrassment on his face. "He was wrong," he repeats, his voice low. Tim can hear it though. The part of Jay trying to convince himself that what he's saying is true. Tim wishes it was. He studies Jay for a moment, but Jay continues to look at the table.

"Come on, Jay," Tim says heavily, pushing himself out of the booth. "Let's get going."

Jay doesn't speak. He bites his lip, holding his mug in his hands so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

"Jay."

Jay let's the mug go in a swift motion, almost shoving it away. He slides to his feet, avoiding Tim's eyes and walking towards the café's door. Tim is quiet for a moment, staring at where Jay had been sitting. He pulls out a few crumpled bills, tossing them onto the table for the bill and tip, then gathers up the laptop and camera. Casting a nod at the waitress standing behind the bar counter, he follows Jay outside.

/

/

/

**NOTE: So about the whole disease-starting-with-Tim thing. There are so many different theories about how the Operator-disease works, and if Tim _really _is at the source of it. I've read a few theories about how people all over the world could be affected by it – which I think is really interesting. I'm not going to rule out any of those options right now, but since this story is being mainly told from Tim's point of view, _he _thinks that he's the source. Which is why the disease is talked about the way it is (spreading out from Alabama and what-not) – because that's how Tim thinks it works, regardless if that's how it really does or not.**

**So that's my little tidbit on that.**


	7. Chapter 7: Concede

"Do you call your parents?"

Tim is taken aback the question. In all the months they had spent together when they had been searching for Alex, they had never asked each other about their parents. Or their families, their friends, anything about their lives before this whole thing really. They had just accepted each other in a needed partnership to defeat…all that they had been fighting then. So it's strange to Tim to hear Jay ask such a question as they drive along a seemingly endless highway towards Becky's hometown.

Tim throws Jay a strange look. "Where'd that question come from?" They had been traveling for nearly an hour now. The radio had been playing softly, providing the only relief from the tense silence that had overtaken the car when they had first left the café. Jay had sat rigidly in his seat, staring out of the passenger window, jaw set. He did not acknowledge Tim, and Tim did not bother to try and prompt Jay into talking. But as the hour went on, Jay slowly loosened into a more slouched position; it wasn't exactly a sign of relaxation – more of a stance of defeat. When Jay seemed to have finally put the café discussion to the back of his mind, he had asked the question.

Jay shrugs. "I used to call my parents, at the beginning of this whole thing. Once every few weeks or so. But as time went on and I got more involved…I don't know, I just…forgot. Well, I didn't _forget _them – I knew I had parents. I remembered their names, I remembered their faces, their voices. But then one day, my hand just hovered over the phone – I couldn't remember what their number was, and I couldn't find them in my contacts. It was terrifying and yet, at the same time, I didn't seem all that bothered by it. As though my mind was too…brainwashed, or muddled or whatever, to even register that that was a bad thing.

"Their voices were the next thing to go…after a while, I couldn't even remember what they looked like." He pauses. "I think I know their names though. I think my dad's name starts with a 'J' too. James, maybe. My mom…I think her name is Mary. Or Margaret. I remember the names sometimes, but it's a fleeting moment, whenever my mind happens to absentmindedly go back to before all of this." He watches his fingers, which are tracing the outline of the door's handle. "I wonder if they had ever looked for me, after I had stopped calling." His hand pauses, the slim fingers trembling ever so slightly. "Or maybe they forgot me too." Up to this point, whenever Tim spared Jay a glance, he could see no sign in Jay's posture or expression that what he was saying was disturbing him. But as Jay says the last sentence, Tim catches a flicker of the deepest kind of sorrow on Jay's face. It is quick, fleeting, but there all the same.

Tim is quiet. He lets Jay's words trail off into the air, mixing in with the soft voice coming from the radio. He runs his hand up the steering wheel, trying to think of an appropriate response.

"I don't remember my dad." He finally says. Jay tilts his head to look at Tim; Tim does not return the gaze – if he does, he's sure he'll loose his nerve and stop talking. "Not in the way you don't remember your parents. My dad – he…wasn't around when I was little. I think he was at the beginning. But then I started going to the doctor. I saw a lot less of both of my parents, but the dad…it was like he had completely disappeared. I asked my mom about him; at first she tried apologizing for him, making excuses. But it wasn't long before she stopped talking about him and I stopped asking." He takes a deep breath, feeling awkward saying all of this out loud to another person. "My mom, she kept up with me. Not as frequently as the typical mom probably would've with a kid in a mental institution, but I guess she had other things to worry about. Anyway, after I got out, we kept in contact. It was just very limited, and very…emotionless? Stoic? I don't know…it felt like we kept up with each other out of social obligation more than anything else." He pauses, and almost laughs in bitterness at the next thought. "For some reason, I never had problems remembering her during the time you and I hunted Alex." He presses his lips together, thinking. "Maybe it was because I'd already been dealing with this thing for pretty much as long as I remember. So my mom – or my thoughts, memories of her – weren't compromised because she had been in my life as long as that thing had." He shrugs. "I still kept up with her through these past two years, though I never told her exactly where I lived. I mean, we're far from being the prime example of the ideal mother-son relationship…but I still don't want to risk endangering her in some way."

Jay sits quietly, his eyes staring directly ahead as he listens. "I'm sorry I dragged you back into this," he finally whispers.

Tim looks at Jay with sharp, questioning eyes. "What?"

Jay presses his mouth into a thin line to keep his lips from trembling. "I'm sorry. It's like you had told me that night in the parking lot after you had found out about me posting everything on the Marble Hornets channel. You were doing fine, you _were _getting better. But I just couldn't keep you out of it – my selfish need for answers brought you back into this, and ruined everything you had worked for in overcoming what you had been fighting your whole life. It's my fault that you're here, that you had to go through all of that." He exhales a shuddering sob. "I'm so sorry, Tim."

Then Jay is nearly thrown out of his seat as Tim yanks the steering wheel to the right, pulling them off of the highway and onto the dirt-covered shoulder. Tim slams on the brakes and pulls the car into park, then jerks around in his seat to face Jay.

"Shut up," he growls, jamming his finger at a shocked Jay's face. "Just shut up, Jay. You were not _selfish_ – you were searching for your friend. Yes, you pulled me back in, but it wasn't because you were being 'selfish' – you were doing it because you needed help, and I was the logical person to go to. It took me a while to understand that, but I do now. So just stop."

Jay's eyes are wide, and indecision to believe Tim's words radiates across his face. A moment passes, the two men's gazes never wavering from each other. Neither moves to say anything. Tim turns away, not bothering to wait any longer for an answer, and pulls them back onto the highway.

They do not speak. Jay looks down at his hands in his lap and twists them slowly, biting his lip. Once or twice he opens his mouth, but his breath hitches in his throat and his clamps his mouth shut before a sound can get out. Tim just turns up the radio volume and keeps his eyes on the road ahead. He feels like he should say something else to Jay, but can't think of anything that could possibly be helpful or appropriate. So he doesn't speak, and Jay continues to stare at his hands.

The next few hours go by agonizingly slow. Tim and Jay continue to sit in silence, breaking it only to help direct each other to Becky's house once they get close enough. By the time they get to her neighborhood, the sky has darkened to a static gray, covered in stormy clouds and threatening to pour down on them any minute. But it does not rain; the weather simply continues to tease them with the dim sky and the damp scent of the oncoming storm.

Becky's house is an average size, surrounded by a large patch of grass with a large tree looming over the edge of its roof. It's a single-story made of brick, with a narrow front porch and a cobblestone walkway leading up to the porch stairs. There are no cars parked out front, and the cream-colored garage door is shut.

Tim parks in the street, and he and Jay make their way up to the porch cautiously. Jay holds the camera, filming the entirety of the house as they approach it. They walk up the porch steps, the stairs creaking under their weight. Two wind chimes hang from the porch roof, tinkling lightly in the air. Tim steps ahead of Jay and knocks three sharp raps on the door.

A few seconds pass, and then the door creaks open. A thin, petite girl stands there. She looks to be a few years younger than Jay and Tim. Her blonde hair hangs over her shoulders in waves, and her hazel eyes look up at the two men with hesitant caution. She hangs onto the door with one hand, as though ready to slam it back in their faces. "Yes?" Her eyes narrow at them for a moment in distrust, and then suddenly widen. She glances between their two faces in shock, then notices the camera in Jay's hand.

"Oh my gosh…_Tim_?" Her jaw drops. "_Jay_? Is it really you guys? I thought – I didn't think you'd really come! And Jay! _Jay!_ I thought – I thought Alex – had…"

An amused grin almost tugs at the corner of Tim's mouth. He glances at Jay, who is trying to give the girl a reassuring smile, though the apprehension is clear on his face. Tim looks back at the girl. "Becky, right? Can we…can we come in?"

"Yes! Yes, of course!" She steps back, holding the door open for them and allowing them to walk inside.

The house is dimly lit, with thin curtains half-way pulled over the windows, keeping a lot of what is left of the daylight out. The living room that they had stepped into is decorated with furniture that looks like it all came from the 1960's. A lamp sits on an end table, its artificial light mixing in with the natural light and creating an odd glow for the room. It looks like no one else is in the house – everything is completely still, almost eerily so.

"Go ahead and sit on the couch," Becky says, gesturing. She pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear, clearly flustered. "I – uh, are you guys thirsty? Do you need anything?"

"No, we're fine," Tim reassures her. He looks around. "So, uh…can we talk?"

"Yes, of course!" Becky sits in a chair opposite of the couch Tim and Jay are sitting in. She brushes at her pants with nervous hands. "I just…thank you for coming. I can't believe you actually did. It's just…it's been _so _long."

"I know," Tim says heavily. "And I'm sorry about that. There's…it's just been…a lot's been going on."

Becky nods her head in understanding. Then she looks at Jay, disbelief clear on her face. "But, Jay…Alex had _shot _you. That thing…how'd you get back? _When _did you get back? I haven't seen a new entry…" She glances at the camera, which Jay had set down on an end table and angled it so it was filming all three of them.

Jay rubs a hand across the back of his head. "Yeah. About that." He gives a hollow laugh. "We don't know exactly what happened either. I just…kinda woke up in Rosswood a few days ago. Tim found me, and we've been trying to figure out where I've been. I don't remember anything."

"Oh." There's disappointment on Becky's face, and sympathy. She bites her lip, as though wanting to say something comforting or helpful but not knowing how she _could_ possibly help.

Jay shifts awkwardly in his seat, then waves a hand sheepishly. "But that's not why we're here," he says, attempting to steer the conversation away from him. "Your sister…we read your messages about her and…well, we'd like to help out."

"Can you tell us exactly what's been going on?" Tim asks.

Becky runs a hand down a lock of her hair again. "Yeah…um, well it started a few months after you had uploaded the last entry. Just little things, here and there. May had started bringing up this new 'friend' she had, every once in a while. Slipping it into normal conversations, casually mentioning it from time to time. Like how her 'friend' watched her walk to school, or how he liked it when she would come to the park. Apparently he doesn't like it that I would always go with her. She told me it makes him mad. It was really freaking me out. I knew she was too old for an imaginary friend, but I never saw anyone with us when we were out together. Then one day I saw a drawing she was working on. It was of the park we go to. She had drawn a bunch of trees, and in front of them was a man in a suit…he had no face." Becky's voice was getting shaky now. "I knew then. I knew it had to be that _thing _that had been following you guys. But how could it be? I don't see how that's possible. And why would he want to follow May, of all people? She just a little girl. She's not connected to you guys in anyway." Tim can't help but notice the slightly accusing tone Becky suddenly takes on. "I thought it was attached to you! How could it have come to her?" She bites her lip. "I'm sorry. I just…I'm really scared. I'm in college, but I decided to live at home so I can look after May. My parents, they're not helping in the slightest." She pauses. "I don't know if I should take her to a doctor. But…what if they take her away, or something?"

Tim and Jay exchange a glance. "Look, Becky," Tim says with a sigh. "I know this is really scary. I mean, it _still _freaks me out, and I've been dealing with it my entire life." He stops, trying to find the words. "We're going to try and help May as much as we can."

"What can you do?" Becky asked, the question teetering between hope and hopelessness.

"Well, the best advice we can give is my medication," Tim says. "It seems to work best in countering that thing. You've seen the entries – you've seen what the medicine seems to be capable of. I don't know why, or _how_, but it works." He shifts in his seat, then pulls out his medication bottle. The pills rattle softly as he turns the medication label towards Becky. He holds it out, and she takes it, studying the label. "I hate to say this but, you're going to have to take May to the doctor. If this thing really is following her then she needs the help. She _needs _this medication."

Becky nods, running a hand over her mouth. She hands the medicine back to Tim, and tears brim her eyes as she speaks. "Will they take her away?" she whispers.

Tim hesitates. He looks at Jay, who looks just as distraught as Tim feels. "I can't say what they will do for sure," Tim says carefully. "Since you're getting her the help so soon after the symptoms have started, hopefully it won't worsen much past what the stages are already at. And since she has a stable home, I can't imagine that they would take her away like that. But she needs the help, Becky."

Becky blinks away the tears and inhales a shaky breath. "No. You're right; she does. I just…why did it come to her?"

Tim does not answer, and Jay finally speaks up after a moment's silence. "We think it attaches itself to people who have met Tim." He falters momentarily, noting the slight rigidness Tim's body has suddenly taken on. "Like how it had stalked Alex after he had met Tim through Marble Hornets."

"But May and I have never met you before," Becky says to Tim.

"Maybe you had met someone who has known Tim," Jay says. "It could work like a chain reaction."

Becky's eyes widen in horror. "But…it could spread _so _fast that way. Is there any way to stop it from spreading?"

Jay sighs heavily. "That's what we're trying to find out."

"And so far we've found out squat about it," Tim mutters bitterly.

Becky looks between the two men awkwardly, shifting her feet. Jay runs a hand down his jeans leg, glancing at Tim before refocusing his attention on Becky. "Becky…is it possibly for us to meet May?"

"No," Tim says suddenly. Becky and Jay look at him in surprise. "I don't want to see her. We could make it worse."

"The creature is already here, Tim," Jay says in faint annoyance. "Seeing her isn't going to make it follow her more."

"You don't know what it will do," Tim says harshly. "_I'm _the source, remember? I don't think meeting the source is going to do her any favors."

Jay gives Tim an exasperated look. He turns to Becky. "Well, it's your decision. Do you want us to meet her?"

"I don't know…" it's obvious that Tim's point has unnerved her slightly. She glances down the hallway. "She's playing in her room right now. She's been in there almost all afternoon…maybe I should go check on her anyway."

"She's quiet," Jay notes.

"Yeah. She always has been." Becky stands up, anxiety clear in every movement of her body and face. "I'll…I'll go check on her first. I'll be right back."

Jay nods, watching Becky walk down the narrow hallway. She stops at the second to last door on the left and knocks.

"May?" her voice drifts back to the living room softly. "May, sweetie? Can I come in?"

Jay and Tim can't hear an answer, though they assume it's because they're farther away and the door is still closed. They hear the bedroom door open, immediately followed by a horrified gasp.

"_May?_"

Jay and Tim jump to their feet at the sound of the terrified voice, Jay snatching up the camera. They glance at each other and then run down the hallway, halting at the bedroom doorway and staring in disbelief.

It's a small bedroom. The walls are painted a light purple, which coincide with the deep violet bed covers. A few coloring pages and flower posters had been pinned to the wall. Tim supposes they must have once looked rather cheery. Except now, the walls, furniture, and window are covered in black scribbles. Words so messily written they're almost unreadable, shapes that look vaguely like eyes, and that symbol. The circle with the "X" stricken through it. They're everywhere, marring the bedroom into a cavern of horror.

In the center of the floor sits a little girl. She is wearing a simple blue dress and her face is framed by a mane of blonde curls. Covering her arms are the same scribbles "decorating" the walls. In her hand is a single black marker. A coloring book lays open beside her, the horses that had once been on the pages scribbled out and blotted with the malicious symbol instead.

Becky is already kneeling at the girl's side, yanking the marker out of the small hand and tossing it across the room. "May! Oh my gosh, _what happened? _Are you alright? Sweetie, say something!"

May blinks at the now-empty hand that had been holding the marker. Her brow furrows slightly, and her eyes slowly move to sister's face. "Did he leave?"

Becky stares at May. "What?"

May glances to the window. "He was there. He wasn't happy for some reason. Then I found this marker. He was glad I did." Her head tilts up, and she catches sight of Tim and Jay standing in the doorway. She doesn't look surprised or disturbed to see them in the least. "Who are you?"

It takes a second for Jay's mouth to work. He licks his lips, his throat dry. "I'm Jay," he says. His voice sounds small, unnerved. He nods at Tim. "This is Tim." Tim does not move; honestly, he looks as though he's legitimately unable to speak in his shock.

"Oh." May tilts her head at them curiously. "Why are you here?"

Jay glances at Becky, who does not look at him; she is too preoccupied with her sister. Jay tries to smile at May, but he's sure it looks more of a grimace than anything. "We're here to talk to Becky. About…things."

"What sort of things?" May squints at the two men. "Do you know my friend?" Her gaze intensifies as it shifts to Tim. "I think you do. Does he talk to you too?"

Tim jerks a step back. His mouth opens, and for a moment all Jay can hear is ragged breathing.

Becky suddenly springs into action, tugging May so she has to turn and face her again. "Come on, sweetie, let's get you cleaned up."

"Will he be angry?" May asks, allowing Becky to pull her to her feet.

"No, honey. Tim's not angry." Becky's voice is steady – she's a lot better at keeping her composure than Jay had originally given her credit for.

"Not them," May says impatiently. "My friend."

Becky stops, her grip on Becky's arm tightening ever so slightly. She does not answer, and leads May across the room by the hand. Tim and Jay step aside to give them room to walk into the hallway. Tim takes a few steps further than necessary, his eyes never leaving May. Becky does not look at the two men as she nudges her sister into the bathroom across the hall from the bedroom. Only when May is standing before the sink does Becky turn to acknowledge them.

"Do you want us to go?" Jay asks gently.

Becky presses her lips together. "I don't know…maybe. No. No, please stay. Just wait in the living room. I don't know what…just please."

"Do you want us to help clean up her bedroom?"

"No." She looks almost alarmed at the idea of them – or anyone, maybe – going back in there. "Just wait in the living room."

Jay nods and begins walking down the hallway, Tim following closely. They sit back on the couch, and Tim leans forward, burying his face in his hands. "We shouldn't have come."

Jay grimaces, glancing down the hallway. He turns his camera over in his hands, but just ends up pointing it at the floor. "We didn't know that would happen. I mean –"

"Come on, Jay," Tim says. "That happened because we were here. Clearly this is the first time it's happened – and on the same day, the same _hour _we're here? Obviously that thing's influence becomes stronger when we're around. When _I'm _around."

"You don't know that," Jay retorts. "It could've been getting worse anyway. It could've just been a –"

"If you say coincidence I'm going to leave you on the side of a highway and never come back. When has _anything _in this whole mess been a coincidence?"

"I'm just trying to think of every possibility!"

"There's only _one _possibility – it's _me_. I'm the source; I'm the one who's infecting everyone."

"What are you going to do, Tim? Kill yourself? That won't solve anything; the chain reaction started a _long _time ago – it's too late to stop it now."

Tim looks furious. His jaw tightens, but before he can respond they hear the sound of the bathroom door opening. Both Tim and Jay turn their attentions to the hallway, watching as Becky leads a now-clean May into the living room. She spares them a glance, but steers May into the attached kitchen, sitting her at the table. Becky pulls out an orange from the refrigerator and sets it on the table along with a napkin. "I'm going to talk to Tim and Jay now, May. So just stay here. We're going to be right in the next room, okay?"

"Okay." May sounds completely content, as though nothing odd whatsoever had happened. Becky casts a final worried glance at her sister, then returns to the living room and sits back in the chair she had been in earlier.

"I'm sorry about that," she begins.

"No," Jay cuts in. "No, we're sorry. We shouldn't have come."

"No, I'm glad you did," Becky says honestly. "It's nice to talk to people who know what's going on."

Tim snorts softly at that.

"Or at least, can relate to what's going on." She pauses. "Thank you for the advice. I really do appreciate it." She runs a hand through her hair, glancing about her as though searching for what to say next. "So um…how's Jessica? Have you talked to her at all since you had uploaded Entry 87, Tim?"

Tim feels as though someone had frozen every bone in his body.

Jay's jaw drops slightly. He stares at Becky. "What?" he says, his voice choked.

Becky blinks in confusion at their reactions. "I…Jessica?" she prods. She looks at them quizzically. "You know, after Tim checked up on her. I just thought…I'd ask…" her voice dies as she watches the horror grow on the men's faces.

Tim knows he should be trying to stop Becky. Saying _something _to cut her off. But he feels as though his vocal chords have been grasped in a deathlike grip, cutting off all air, all words. All he can do is sit, frozen, as the secret he had been keeping from Jay for _years _comes crashing down around him.

Jay turns wide eyes onto Tim. "What is she talking about? Tim?"

Tim looks at Jay. "Jay…I…"

HE IS A LIAR

"I promise I was going to tell you…"

YOU ARE NOT TRUSTED

"Tell me what? _Tim?_" Jay's eyes are narrowing, his gaze hardening.

Becky looks between the two with growing apprehension. She fixes her eyes on Jay. "You don't know…?"

Jay snaps her gaze to Becky. "Know _what?_" He twists back to Tim, unsure who look at, who to press for answers. "Know _what_, Tim? Is there another entry? One you didn't show me?"

"We should go," Tim says, standing up. "We shouldn't talk about this here. Not in front of Becky and her sister."

"Right, because it obviously wasn't a good time to talk about _before _Becky even brought it up," Jay snaps, rising to his feet too.

"Jay," Tim warns. "Not here."

"I'm so sorry," Becky says timidly, her hand gripping the chair's armrest as she rises. "I didn't mean…I…"

"It's not your fault, Becky," Tim says calmly. Jay's jaw tightens. Tim glances at May, who's watching them with interest. "We have to go. I'll send you a message soon, I promise."

Becky just nods, glancing at Jay warily, who is almost shaking with rage.

"Thanks for letting us come over," Tim says. He gives Jay a stern glance, then nods to the door. Jay shoots Tim the most venomous look Tim has ever seen Jay give, but he starts heading towards the door.

"I'm sorry," Becky says again, her voice small.

Jay glances back at her. "It's not you who's at fault, Becky," he says, the words cold, accusing. But the undertone is not meant for Becky. Jay sighs as he sees the embarrassed expression on the girl's face. "We'll see you," he adds, his voice softer that time. Then he's gone.

Tim's hands have clenched into fists as he watches Jay leave, but he retains his composure and turns back to Becky. "Stay safe. We'll be in touch soon."

Becky nods, fear and apprehension so prominent in her eyes that the guilt mounts up in Tim higher than ever. "Here," Tim says, knowing this is not a good idea, but unable to not do something more with the look Becky is giving him. "Give me your number. I'll send you a text so you'll have mine, and if something comes up, message me."

"Oh…okay." Becky relays her number to Tim, who saves it to his phone and quickly sends her a text with his name in the content.

"Okay," Tim says. "We'll see you soon."

Becky nods, and Tim forces himself to turn away and leave the house.

Jay is almost to the end of the driveway, and looks like he might walk past Tim's car completely. The sky has darkened significantly, and Tim can feel tiny drops of rain hit his face as he hurries to catch up to Jay. He manages to cut off Jay's route, forcing him to stop beside the car.

"Get in," he orders.

"No."

"Get _in_. We're not going to do this in front of Becky's house."

Jay glances back at the said house. Gritting his teeth, he yanks open the car down and gets inside. Tim stalks around the car and gets into the driver's side.

"I thought, after everything, that we wouldn't keep secrets from each other. Not about things like this." They hadn't even pulled away from the curb yet, but Jay wastes no time in speaking. His words are cold, and his body rigid.

Tim bites his lip. He knew Jay would find out eventually, he just wishes it hadn't been like this. He opens his mouth to say something but Jay is already talking again.

"You have to tell me everything, Tim. _Tell me the truth._ What was Becky talking about? Is there another entry?"

Tim sighs in defeat. "Yes. There is an Entry 87. I…deleted it the day I showed you the Marble Hornets channel."

"_Why?_" Jay demands furiously.

Tim struggles to figure out how to explain everything. Explain why he'd been lying to Jay for years. "I thought it'd be safest for you. For her."

"For Jessica."

"Yes."

"So she's alive?" Jay seethes. "She's been alive this whole time – and you _knew?_ You knew where she was?"

"...yes."

Jay grits his teeth. "How long?"

"I –"

"_How long have you known?_"

Tim's grip on the steering wheel tightens. "I don't know, exactly."

"Bull_shit_."

"I'm telling the truth," Tim says savagely. "Over time…I don't know, I just…_knew_. I knew where she was, I knew what had happened. It was sometime after we had woken up in that shack with the tape in my pocket. I think…I think that the…other me…the one in mask, had gotten her out. Saved her." He rubs a hand across his forehead. "I don't know for sure. But then I was suddenly helping her find a safe place to stay, I helped her check into my doctor's office, I helped her learn how to _live_ and resist that thing's influence – as best I could, anyway. I kept her safe."

"Safe from that thing – or safe from me?" Jay asks angrily.

"From both of you," Tim snaps. "I knew that if you knew where she was, that she was alive, you'd go straight to her. You would reveal her location and put her in immediate danger. She would have been killed for _sure _if you had known about her. I did what I did to protect her."

"And what about me, Tim? What about _me?_ I had searched for her for _years_. I thought she had been killed because of _me_. It was my fault, and I was desperate to find her. I went to that shack after you and I had our fight to look for her. I was attacked by that thing _looking for her_. You know that, you _saw_ it on the tapes!" Jay runs a hand through his hair. "Damn it, Tim, if you had just _told me_, I wouldn't have gone through that tunnel. I wouldn't have been…_changed_ by that thing. It did something to me, and that could've been prevented if you had just told me!"

Realization of the truth of Jay's words crash onto Tim with brute force. "I…Jay…I'm sorry…"

YOUR FAULT

"I thought what I was doing was for the best…"

DO YOU REMEMBER

"I was trying to protect her…"

DO YOU REGRET

It has begun to fully rain now. Heavy raindrops pound against the windshield and roof, running down the windows in angry rivers. They have left Becky's neighborhood, and are on a road lined by heavy brush and trees on either side. It looks like they're the only car on the road.

Tim tightens his jaw. "Jay…I know I shouldn't have lied to you. I know it was wrong. But can't you understand why I did it?"

"I can understand why _you _think it was okay to lie to me," Jay says furiously. "But I still think it was a shitty decision. All those years, I thought she was dead because of me…"

"Jay –"

"Where is she?" The question is sudden and harsh. Demanding an answer.

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Don't lie to me anymore, Tim," Jay grinds out. "_Where is she?_"

"I'm not going to tell you, Jay. It's too dangerous."

"Too dangerous _for who?_" Jay asks, his voice rising. "For me? Too late for that, Tim – that _thing _knows where I am _all_ the time. We clearly can't escape it. For Jessica? Why? If it can find us, can't it find her too?" He pounds his hand against the door's armrest, the bang louder than it should be and making Tim flinch. "I deserve to know where she is, Tim. _I'm _the one who dragged her into this. Who searched for her for years. I _deserve _to know."

"No, Jay," Tim snaps. "You don't 'deserve' to know. Jessica _deserves _to live a normal life, as much as she can, anyway. She deserves to not be dragged back into this. And you would mess everything up for her if you tried to contact her."

"You don't fucking know what she or I deserve," Jay hisses through clenched teeth. "You think you know best, that you can call the shots because that _thing _has been following you around your whole life. Well who was the one who kidnapped her from that hotel, Tim? Who was the one who brought her into those woods where Alex almost killed her?" Jay is shouting now, each word slicing into Tim viciously.

Tim's breathing is ragged. It's getting hard to concentrate on the road. He feels white hot inside, and icy cold at the same time. He twists his hands around the steering wheel, his knuckles colorless in their vice-like grip.

"Let me out," Jay says suddenly.

"What?" Tim's rage dissipates for the slightest of seconds into shock at the random command.

"_Let me out_," Jay repeats. "Pull over. I don't want this anymore. I'll find Jessica on my own. I don't need your help, Tim."

"Are you insane, Jay?" Tim says furiously. "It's pouring rain out there, for one thing. And for another, where are you going to go? You have no money, no car, _nothing_. How do you plan on finding Jessica?"

"I'll figure it out," Jay retorts. "Now _let me out!_"

"_No._"

"I swear, if you – _TIM!_" Jay is staring at the road in front of them, his eyes suddenly wide with shock.

Tim snaps his head to the front and feels his eyes widen as well. Standing on the road directly before them, just barely visible in the pouring rain, is a dark figure. It's facing them, and not moving. But it's clearly a person. Tim slams on the brakes and yanks the steering wheel to the right. At the same moment, his brain is able to register a single, faint realization: the figure is wearing a mask painted to look like a skull. But then the car runs off of the road and that thought is washed away by blind panic.

The car rips down the grassy slope, the hill basically turned to mud in the rain. Tim tries to keep the steering wheel straight, but it's nearly impossible as they slide down the rough terrain. They begin to tear into the thick wall of bushes and trees and Tim's mind blanks out in raw fear. He has no idea where to turn, because all he can see is rain and mud and death. Then a large tree looms up before them. Tim doesn't see his car crash into the tree, but he feels it. It's sudden, and sharp burning pain shoots through his body. Then, everything is still darkness.

/

It has stopped pouring. It's still raining, but it's more of a light sprinkle now; measly drops splatter against the car at a steady rate, their rhythm soothing.

There's another dripping sound. It's not rain, and it's a lot closer to Tim's ears. It sounds like a single drop, repeating itself over and over. He wonders what it could be. His brow furrows as he tries to place the sound, and is immediately rewarded with a flash of pain. He moans, and slowly blinks open his eyes.

He is leaning against the steering wheel, the right side of his face pressed against the rounded plastic. The seat belt is cutting into his neck, making breathing difficult. As his eyes focus he sees that the window of the driver's door has been shattered. Not too much rain has seeped into the car though, since the thick leaves of an enormous bush shields the majority of the left side of the car.

Tim feels something slide down his right cheek and he jerks weakly, slowly pushing himself away from the steering wheel with a groan. Lying against the seat's back, Tim touches the right side of his face gingerly. Dull pain throbs there, and he pulls away his fingers to see them covered in wet blood. He looks down at his jeans and sees that he had been dripping blood onto them, which has resulted in quite a large red stain on the blue fabric. Tim touches his head again, but jerks away when his fingers brush against a rather large gash on his right temple.

He tries to move his legs, but cries out as his left leg flares in pain. _Please don't be broken._ He studies the leg with his hazy vision, and concludes that it doesn't _look_ broken – but he can't be sure.

The pattering of the rain is giving him a headache. He blinks hard, trying to re-focus his vision, and turns his head slowly to gaze at the passenger seat.

It's empty. The passenger door is open, and rain has drenched both the door and the seat. There's a smear of red on the door, near the handle. Another smear of blood mars the dashboard.

Panic swells in Tim's chest. "Jay?" he calls out, his voice cracking on the word. He fumbles with his seat belt, and after a frustrating moment manages to release it. Breathing heavily, he pushes at the driver's door and is relived that it isn't jammed shut. It creaks open, and Tim all but collapses onto the wet ground outside. Clutching the side of the car for support, Tim slowly makes his way around the car to the passenger door.

Jay is no where in sight. The grass around the open door is torn up and ruined, showing signs of someone dragging something heavy across it. Then Tim's eyes catch sight of something lying on the floor of the car. It's Jay's camera. The screen is cracked, and it's not recording. Beside it is a small piece of paper. Tim picks it up to read the words scrawled there.

THIS IS YOUR RETRIBUTION

Tim staggers back, dropping the paper to the rain-soaked ground. It is then that Tim notices the blood smeared into the grass; it accompanies the trail of indentations in the ground, following as the trail swerves into the bushes to the right of the car, disappearing from Tim's sight.

"Jay…" he mumbles. Tears blind his already hazy vision as he stumbles forward, trying to follow the trail of Jay's body being dragged away. Pain shoots up from his leg, so fast and hard that he almost vomits at the violence of it. He collapses to his knees, gasping and clutching his leg. His head is pounding, and the corners of his vision are darkening.

Frantically, he fumbles in his jeans pocket for his phone. The relief is almost overwhelming when he finds it still there and – better yet – still working. He quickly brings up his contacts. Everything in his body and mind is screaming at him to not do this. But then he sees the blood smeared on the grass, and his panic for Jay and the pain throbbing all over his body wipes away any logical thought. Grimacing, he presses the "call" button for Becky.

She picks up after one ring. "Tim?"

"Becky," he says, his voice hoarse. "I'm so sorry…I don't want you to bring you into this. But…there's been an accident. Jay…he's missing. I…I don't want the police involved, but I don't know who else…I need help."

"Oh my gosh, Tim, yeah, of course," Becky says quickly. She sounds like she's running as she continues to talk. "Where are you? I'm leaving right now."

"Burtone Road, heading west. We ran right off of it…"

"I'll be there soon," Becky says.

"K…" Tim mutters. He barley manages to press the "end" button on his phone before he feels unconsciousness claiming him; his body pitches forward into oblivion.

/

/

**NOTE: Don't worry, Becky is not going to become a main character or anything. Tim just needs someone to wrap up his boo-boos, and then he's gone. So if you don't like OC's, no worries. ;)**


	8. Chapter 8: Starter

The pain in Tim's head feels muffled. As though he can hear the actual thudding of it, but someone has smothered the source of the sound with a thick blanket.

There are other sounds too. It takes a few seconds, but then Tim's brain recognizes the odd noises as voices. There are two different pitches. Two voices. He can't make out any of the words though. He frowns and tries to move his head, open his eyes. But the effort is exhausting. He feels muggy, as though he is swimming through a hazy fog.

"…car…don't…" A higher voice. Lighter, female.

"…as much…" Male. That one is definitely male.

Tim turns his head slightly, his brow creasing with the effort.

"…waking…"

"…Tim?"

Tim's eyelids flutter, allowing glimpses of sharp light to slice through the darkness. He groans, and slowly opens his eyes.

He's in Becky's living room. He's lying on the couch, staring up at the low popcorn ceiling above him. Becky is leaning over him, her hair falling around her face in long waves and her eyes watching Tim anxiously. Next to her stands May, her expression more curious and interested than anything else. And standing on the far side of the two girls is a tall man who looks to be about Becky's age. He has dark hair and brown eyes that are studying Tim intensely, the aura of concern vaguely mixed into the expression.

Tim jumps slightly as his gaze falls on the stranger. Becky's hand immediately shoots out to steady him, though it falls short of touching Tim's arm by a few centimeters. "It's okay, Tim!" she exclaims. "He's a friend. I'm sorry, but I needed help." She gestures to the man. "This is Marcus. He goes to the same college I do. He's a medical major, so he knows a lot more about this kind of stuff than I do." Tim is still watching Marcus with distrust, so Becky continues. "I promise he's trustworthy. But you were in really bad shape, Tim. I had to be sure you were alright."

Marcus looks slightly embarrassed as he gives Tim a nod. "Hi, Tim," he says. "Becky didn't tell me everything about you – so don't worry. I promise not to be a busy-body." He glances at Tim's head, which suddenly feels very heavy to Tim. "I cleaned and wrapped the gash on your head. It was a pretty nasty cut, but it should heal well enough. You're lucky – you don't have a concussion. You're bruised badly all over, but there are no broken ribs." He gestures to Tim's leg, which Tim now notices is wrapped heavily. "It's not broken, but the ankle is swollen and bruised pretty badly. You probably should stay off of it for a few days –"

"Can I walk on it?" Tim cuts in.

Marcus looks at Tim with a mixture of slight confusion and surprise. "Um…yeah, I mean, it's _possible_, but it's definitely not a good idea. You need to rest, let it heal –"

"No way." Tim pushes himself into a sitting position, causing the anxiety on Becky and Marcus' faces to heighten. And triggering a dull headache to begin. Perfect. Tim shakes his head, trying to think clearly. "I don't know what Becky told you, but my friend had been in that car with me and he's missing…I've got to find him…"

"I know," Marcus says gravely. "Becky told me. We followed the trail left by whoever took your friend. It went into the bushes just beyond the crash site, and met up with a small dirt road that had curved off of Burtone Road. There were tire tracks there; the person who took your friend must have driven off with him."

A horrible sinking feeling swells in Tim's gut. Jay could be anywhere. He's been at the mercy of his kidnapper for however long Tim's been out – _hours _probably. Tim feels panic rising in his throat and he forces himself to calm, taking deep shuddering breaths.

The concern in Marcus' eyes grows. "Tim. We need to call the police. We should have done it earlier, but Becky insisted on waiting till you woke up –"

"No," Tim says sternly. "The police can't help."

"This is a _kidnapping_," Marcus says. "They need to be informed."

"Not about this. This isn't under normal circumstances."

"What's 'normal' circumstances?" Marcus asks, frustration seeping into his confusion.

Tim suddenly feels pissed. Who is this guy to determine what needs to be done about Tim and Jay? He's never even _met _him before. "Look," Tim snaps. "What's happening with my friend and I is not something that any policeman could understand. We've been dealing with this for years, and –"

"Right, because it's clearly going so well," Marcus says haughtily.

"Look, pal," Tim snaps. "I don't know who you think you are, but I don't need your help."

"Your head wound and sprained ankle say otherwise."

"Really, you two?" Becky says in exasperation. "Don't you think we have bigger things to worry about than arguing about which of you two is more right? This isn't going to help Jay."

Marcus looks slightly embarrassed as he glances at Becky, though the anger is still prevalent in his expression. "Becky," he says, his tone softer, yet none less sterner. "We have to call the police. This Jay guy – he's in trouble."

For some reason, hearing a stranger call Jay "this Jay guy" pisses off Tim even more so than anything else said so far. "I know he's in trouble," Tim says furiously. "That's why I have to go after him – right now." He swings his legs over the side of the couch; Becky sucks in her breath, watching him worryingly.

"Where are you even going to begin searching for him?" she asks hopelessly.

Tim looks up at her, feeling more defeated than ever. She's right – he has _no _idea where to begin looking.

"Maybe the skeleton man sent you a message."

Tim looks at May in surprise. She had been perfectly quiet throughout the entire exchange so far, simply watching with interest and a calculating gaze. But now she studies Tim with an expression far too intense for someone her age, as though urging him to understand, to reason with her.

"What?" Tim asks. "How do you know about the skeleton man?"

"You should check to see if he sent you a message," May says again.

Tim at Becky questioningly. Becky returns his confused gaze, and looks at her sister. "May, sweetie. Who are you talking about?"

"The man who took Jay. He has a skull for a face." May presses impatiently. "He sends them weird messages."

_The totheark videos_. Tim glances about him wildly. "My laptop," he says. "It was in the car. Did it –"

"It was wedged between the backseat and the driver's seat," Marcus says. He stands up, walking over to the armchair across the living room from them. "You're lucky – your laptop case is padded extremely well. And since it was wedged pretty solidly between those two seats, it wasn't damaged." He bends down, and pulls out Tim's laptop case from the far side of the chair. He returns to the couch and holds it out to Tim.

Tim takes it and quickly pulls his laptop out of it. He breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing that it is indeed still in one piece. He opens it and hurriedly pulls up the internet and in seconds is logging into the Marble Hornets YouTube channel.

The channel's inbox has three new messages. Two are responses to Jay's messages he had sent in his attempts to contact people who claimed to have seen the creature. If Tim had been sitting in a hotel beside Jay, Tim might have felt a twinge of excitement. But he's not, and instead his attention turns to the newest message; it's exactly what he was looking for. He feels both hope and dread upon seeing the message title.

_totheark sent you a video: "Retribution"_

Tim's breath leaves him in a shuddering exhale. It's a short video, less than 20 seconds long. May sits down on the couch beside Tim, her thin leg pressing against his as she leans forward, studying the laptop screen. Hesitantly, Becky sits down on the other side of Tim, though she leaves a few inches of space between them. Marcus stands on the other side of Becky, leaning over slightly to get a better view of the screen.

Tim wishes he were alone for this. But he needs to see the message _now_ – he doesn't have time to argue with three people and kick them out of the room. So he clicks on the video.

It starts with distorted footage of Tim and Jay arguing in front of Becky's house. As the two men get into the car, the screen switches to black and words flash across the screen.

LIES REVEALED

YOU KNOW

WHO IS TO BLAME

Tim grits his teeth and strains to keep his hands from clenching into fists.

The next clip is of Jay being dragged away from the crash site.

Tim's breath hitches in his throat, almost choking on his raw fury. The image struggles to stay in focus as the camera moves about shakily, obviously from the effort of the person dragging Jay's body while trying to film at the same time. The person's other arm is wrapped around the front of Jay's chest beneath Jay's armpits, dragging him backwards across the grass. Jay's head is drooped onto his chest, and Tim can't see his face from the angle of the shot.

Blood blots Jay's shirt over his left collarbone, and Tim can't tell if that's where the source of the blood is, or if it dripped down from a wound on his neck or head. Blood also soaks his left pant leg, dripping onto the grass and leaving a streaking trail for Tim to find. Before Tim can study Jay's condition any further, the clip cuts out, switching to shots of Rosswood Park.

The coloring of the clip is off; everything is in hues of reds and oranges. The clip barely lasts three seconds before it switches to an outside shot of the abandoned hospital wing Tim had been in as a child. The clip distorts, and then blinks to black.

HOW ABOUT

A BARGAIN

The video ends.

Tim feels no shock. Just anger. Pure, white hot, overwhelming anger. He wants to kill the man in the skeleton mask. In the end, he had not wanted to kill Alex. But this man – he wants to kill him. He knows it's wrong to want that, and he's sure that Jay would be upset with him for feeling that way. But after that clip of Jay…that's all Tim is capable of feeling, all he can think.

"Tim?" Becky is looking at Tim with horror. Not because of him, but from what she has seen in that video.

Tim tears his eyes away from the laptop screen to look at Becky.

"Tim," she says, her voice small, trembling. "What are we going to do?"

"_You're_ not going to do anything," Tim says. He slams the laptop shut and shoves it back into his case. "It's too dangerous. And I've already involved you enough."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Becky says. Tim stands up, and Becky quickly mirrors him. She gives him a stern look. "No way. You're not going to play hero and go running off after Jay all by yourself. No offense, but I've seen your entries. I know what happens when you guys go off on your own, rescue mission or not."

"No way, Becky," Tim says, equally as firm. "It's not going to happen."

"Really?" Becky says, her voice suddenly oddly carrying a smug tone to it. "And how do you plan on getting to Rosswood without a car?"

Tim's face drops slightly at that. _Damn it._ "I'll…hot-wire one."

Becky raises an eyebrow. "You can do that?"

"I'd rather not have to, but yeah."

Becky gives him an exasperated look that uncomfortably reminds Tim of Jay. "You're being ridiculous, Tim. You have an injured ankle, you're bruised all over – you're in no shape to run after Jay."

"Then who's going to?" Tim demands.

"The authorities," Becky says. She hesitates. "Maybe Marcus is right. Maybe we should involve them."

Tim scoffs. "You know why we can't. They'll never get to Jay in time. And then they'll lock me up, since my mental state and actions caused by said state that have been so wonderfully recorded for all of YouTube to see."

"But you'll get to Jay in time?" Becky asks doubtfully.

"That masked bastard clearly wants something in exchange for Jay," Tim says. "Do you really think he'll be okay with a police squad running in after him? He'll slit Jay's throat before they even come close to finding them. He wants _me _to meet him there."

"Yeah, and did it ever occur to you that maybe he wants to trade Jay for _you?_"

Tim stops, gritting his teeth. Yes, it had occurred to him from the moment the word "bargain" had flashed onto the laptop screen. But it doesn't matter. All that matters is getting Jay back, keeping him safe. At whatever cost. "That isn't going to stop me," Tim says.

Becky looks at Tim with a helpless, desperate expression. "Please, Tim. We need to think of a plan."

"I have one. It's called driving to Rosswood and kicking a skeleton's ass. Sorry," he adds, glancing at May.

May, who is still sitting on the couch, grins. "I don't mind."

"Well, I do," Becky says, giving May a stern look. She glares at Tim, who rubs the back of his head awkwardly. "Look, Tim, I just think this is a really stupid idea. I think I should go with you. Or Marcus. _Someone_."

Marcus doesn't say anything, but he does straighten slightly from where he's standing behind Becky, his eyes serious and his stance determined. Tim is thankful that Marcus hasn't demanded any explanations since the totheark video. Marcus looks alarmed and confused – and rightfully so – but luckily he's staying quiet for the moment, allowing Becky and Tim to discuss what to do.

"No," Tim says. "I'm not letting anyone else get hurt because of me."

"You sound like a cliché Hollywood movie hero," Becky scoffs.

But Tim's expression does not change. "Becky, you're not coming with. That's final. I'm not going to endanger you or May. I can do this on my own. You've got to understand that."

Becky frowns. After a long moment she gives an angry sigh. "Fine. Whatever. Get yourself killed." She stomps off towards the kitchen. Tim and Marcus glance at each other in slight surprise, the first completely not-hostile exchange they're had so far.

"Where are you going?" Tim calls after her.

"To get some food for you, stupid! If you're going to get yourself killed, you might as well die on a full stomach."

Marcus snorts at that. Tim rolls his eyes.

"May, get some bandages and other medical supplies and put it into a bag," Becky orders from the kitchen. "And painkillers. A lot of those."

"But I –"

"_Do it._"

May sighs and jumps to the living room carpeting. She glances at Tim. "Look what you did. Now she's going to be pissed off _and _in a constant state of worrying for the rest of the day." She leaves the living room and heads towards the bathroom down the hallway.

Tim glances at Marcus, but doesn't know what to say to him in the awkward silence. Marcus doesn't say anything either, though they're spared from any search for conversation when Becky storms back into the room holding a bag full of food.

"Here." She shoves the bag into Tim's hands. "Since my parents are gone for the week – one of their stupid 'we need a break' vacations when they get tired of May and I – they left my mom's car behind. I'll use her car, and you can take mine." She yanks out a set of car keys and slams then into Tim's palm.

"Ow…" Tim mutters.

Becky ignores the comment. "Marcus towed your car back here. It's in pretty bad shape, but I'm going to look it over in my uncle's shop and see what I can do about it. It _might _be fixable."

Tim looks at Becky in surprise. "Wait, what? _You're_ going to look it over?"

"I'm studying to be a mechanical engineer," Becky says in slight exasperation, as though Tim _should_have known this. "During high school I worked in my uncle's auto shop a lot. Cars are my thing."

"I – but you –" Tim stumbles, staring at Becky.

Becky glances down at her cream-colored Capris and purple cardigan. "What? Just because I like cars doesn't mean I have to wear overalls or be an obnoxious tomboy. Not that tomboys are necessarily _obnoxious_," she adds quickly. "But the stereotype for female car-mechanics seems to lean that way, unfortunately."

"You're being _kinda_ obnoxious right now," Marcus points out.

"Shut up, Marcus. I'm loud because I'm pissed."

"…I'm sorry?" Tim says tentatively.

"Yeah, whatever," Becky snaps. "Let's get you going. The faster you reach Jay, the better." She glances down at Tim's wrapped ankle. "Can you even walk?" There is a hint of concern in the question, despite her anger.

Tim takes a few steps forward. He has to limp as he walks, and pain shoots up his leg horribly, but he forces himself to keep a neutral face and steady form. "Yeah, it's fine," he says tightly.

"Uh huh." Becky turns at the sounds of May returning from the bathroom. May holds out a pink flowered bathroom bag to Becky.

"There. Bandages, ointment, and other things. And all the painkiller pills I could find."

Becky takes the bag. "Thank you May. Come on, Tim." And then she's leading them down a smaller, short hallway opposite of the one May's bedroom had been down. Marcus follows first, smirking at the bag.

May tugs at Tim's shirt as he walks past. He glances down. "I snuck some candy in there too," May whispers.

Tim smiles. "Thanks, May." May's hand lingers on Tim's shirt, near where his hand dangles loosely at his side. He hesitates, then grasps the smaller hand gently, allowing May to lead him after Becky and Marcus.

The hallway immediately leads into a small laundry room. They pass through it and go through the door on the other end of it, leading to the garage. The garage door has been opened, and the little sunlight filtering through the rainclouds spills onto the two cars in the garage. Becky and Marcus stand beside the one closer to the laundry room door: a blue 2002 Buick.

"Alright, here you go," Becky says.

Tim stops before the car, hesitating. "Becky, I can't take your car."

"Oh really? Well then good luck getting to Jay."

"Becky –"

"Just take it, Tim." She's not angry as she says it. Almost pleading, actually.

And yet Tim still hesitates.

"Jay needs you."

Tim grits his teeth, then sighs. "A lot of people seem to like using Jay against me to get me to do things."

Becky smiles sadly. "Sorry. But Jay really _does _need you."

"Yeah," Tim says quietly. He shakes his head and lets go of May's hand. He looks at her. "You be good to your sister, May." He winks, teasing.

May smiles. "I will."

Tim straightens and looks at Marcus. Swallowing down his pride, he puts on a friendly expression. "Hey man, thanks for everything. I'm sorry I was short with you earlier. I know you're just trying to help. It's just – this is really complicated."

Marcus sighs. "It's alright. Just…just find your friend, okay?"

"I will."

"And don't mess up my wrapping job on your leg."

Tim smirks at that. "I can't make any promises."

Marcus grins. Then he glances at Becky. "I guess I'll go tow the car over to Carson's shop. I'll call you when I get there."

Becky nods gratefully. "Okay, thanks."

Marcus walks past the cars and through the open garage door, where Tim can see a truck parked next to the curb at the end of the driveway, his smashed up car behind it. He grimaces as Marcus gets into the truck and begins pulling the car away.

"Oh man," he mutters. "I don't know what you'll be able to do about that mess."

Becky shrugs. "We'll see. I think it looks worse than it really is."

Tim turns to face her. "Thank you, Becky. For everything. I really do appreciate it."

Becky smiles, her anger finally having ebbed away and her demeanor changing back to her quieter, almost shy persona. Tim almost laughs at the radical difference between a pissed-Becky and a calm-Becky, but instead he just continues to smile gratefully, turning the keys over in his hands awkwardly.

Becky glances at the road. "You should go." She holds out the pink flowered bag and Tim takes it. "Take care, Tim."

"You too. Both of you." He gaze shifts between Becky and May before finally settling back on the older sister. "I'll be sure to keep in touch."

"Thank you." She gives Tim a warning look. "But I'm giving you only twelve hours. If you don't call me in twelve hours, I _am _going to call the police to look for you. I don't care what you say, I promise I will."

But Tim doesn't feel like arguing. It's nice actually, to have someone worry about him. Besides Jay, of course. "Then I'll be sure to call you in twelve hours."

Becky smiles. "Okay."

"Okay." Tim's hand moves slightly, though he's not sure what to do with it. Shaking Becky's hand feels too formal, but he's not sure else what to do to say goodbye. So he just gives an awkward half-wave to her and May. "Bye."

"Kick his a –" May begins before Becky elbows her. "…butt. Kick his butt, Tim!"

Tim grins. "I will." He opens up the car door and slides inside, dropping the medical and food bags onto the floor of the passenger side. He starts the car and begins backing it up. Before he turns onto the road, he spares once last glance at the still-open garage. Becky and May continue to stand there, Becky's hand enveloping May's. May lifts her free hand to wave wildly, to which Tim returns the gesture. Then he turns the car onto the road and looks away, accelerating the car towards Burtone Road – towards Rosswood Park.

"I'm coming Jay."

/

Jay's eyes flutter open and for a moment he simply lays there, blinking heavily to try and clear his muddled thoughts. The air is stale and humid, and he heaves in a gasping breath. Or at least, tries to. But something's blocking his air, and he's suddenly aware of how dry his mouth is. His tongue pushes against a wad of cloth and he realizes that a gag has been stuffed into his mouth. Panic shoots through him and for a second he can't breathe; he's gasping, but no air is filling his lungs. Then his dazed mind remembers he can breathe through his nose too and his squirming subsides a bit as he breathes heavily through his nostrils. He tries to reach up to pull away the gag, but his arms are tied behind his back, rendering the action useless.

_Where am I where am I where am I where am I._ His mind races frantically as he glances about him. The room he's in is extremely dim, so it's hard to make anything out. It's also rather difficult to keep his vision in focus; the dizziness does not seem to want to subside.

_Where's Tim?_ "Tim!" Jay tries to shout through the waded cloth. But all that makes it past his lips is a muffled gurgle that sounds nothing like Tim's name. He blinks again, trying to force the persistent grogginess from his head and blackness from his vision. _What's wrong with me? _He moves his head, and the motion immediately makes him feel sick. He feels as though he's been dropped in a warm bathtub; everything seems slow-motion and slightly out-of-focus. _I've been drugged._ The realization makes Jay groan against the cloth. He gives his head a weak shake, as though the small action would rid his body of the aftereffects of whatever drug his kidnapper had kept him sedated with.

_I have to move. I have to get out of here._ He looks around, and sees nothing in the room except for pieces of broken wood and plaster amidst all the dirt and dust. There, at the opposite end of the room, is an open doorway. There is no door Jay can see on the hinges.

Jay feels that his legs are not tied together and tries to move them in an attempt to stand up. Immediately pain rips up his left leg and through his body, making him cry out against his gag. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing heavily to wait for the worst of the wave to pass. Then he looks down to inspect his leg.

Blood soaks his jeans from the left knee down. Jay doesn't think it's bleeding too freely right now, but he can see some of his blood smeared about on the room's floor. It doesn't look broken; it feels more like the pain of a large gash. But he can't tell for sure, since his jeans block his view of his leg. Jay looks around desperately for something, _anything_ to cut the ropes binding his wrists together. As he shifts his body, he hears the clinking of glass by where his shoulder had just moved. Twisting around – and hissing at the pain his leg prompts because of the movement – he sees a few small glass shards scattered amongst the wood and plaster.

Jay reaches out with his hands and grasps one of the shards. He has to turn his fingers at odd angles to hold the shard against the ropes, but he manages it and begins sawing away. It feels like almost half an hour passes – though Jay is sure it couldn't have been _that _long – before the rope finally falls away. His fingers are bleeding from cuts now, and he nicked his right wrist pretty good at the final saw, but he's _free_.

Dropping the shard, Jay rips away the gag, gasping in the dusty air greedily. Getting more oxygen in helps clear his head slightly, but not enough to fully rid himself of the effects of the drugs. He looks towards the door hazily and tries to push himself to his feet. Burning pain in his leg causes him to collapse back to the floor with an agonized moan. Breathing harshly, he glances down at his leg. He sees a large rip in his jeans and with trembling fingers pushes the fabric open. A dirty cloth had been sloppily tied around his calf, though it is now soaked in blood. Based on where the darkest stains trail along the cloth, Jay guesses that his wound must be at least six inches long. The blood on the cloth still looks wet too. And since Jay assumes he's been here for hours, the gash must be very deep for it to still be bleeding somewhat. His stomach churning, Jay wonders what could have caused it; perhaps a piece from Tim's dashboard had exploded inwards and gotten him during the crash.

_Stand-up medical job there_, Jay thinks bitterly, glaring at the dirty bandage. It feels like a fire is continuously burning under his skin and Jay as he suddenly wonders if the wound may be infected. _Shit. Please don't be._ He looks again to the door. _I have to move._

Gritting his teeth, Jay drags himself across the small's room floor to the nearest wall. Leaning against it, he pulls himself to his feet. His entire body is shaking by now, and his breathing is ragged. Using the wall for support, he starts to limp towards the room's door. The effort is exhausting, and he feels like he's going to throw up. And the pain just keeps shooting up through his leg with every step he takes.

But _finally_, he makes it to the door. He blinks at the brighter lighting in the hallway, his muddled mind still trying to make it all out. It takes a lot longer than it should, but he finally recognizes the place. _The hospital. Shit, I'm at the hospital._ Jay glances around him frantically, but sees no one. There's not one sound in the entire place. Setting his jaw, he starts down the hallway.

For the first slow, agonizing minutes all Jay can hear is his pained gasps and the sliding, limping steps of his feet. His hands cling to wall as he walks, smearing blood along it in grotesque trails from his cut fingers. He makes it almost halfway down the hallway before he hears it. A soft clatter of stones from the far end of the hallway. Jay freezes and twists his head around, but sees nothing. He falters for a moment, debating whether to continue on and risk being heard or not.

Then the man in the skeleton mask turns the corner and stops, staring right at Jay.

Terror fills Jay and for a moment all he can do is stare back. Then the masked man starts stalking towards Jay. Jay takes a step backwards, but his bad leg gives out beneath him and he crumples to the ground with a cry. He looks up; the man is almost to him.

Jay knows that it would be useless to try and run. So instead he looks about him wildly for any kind of weapon. A block of cement, a pipe, even a shard of glass. The man is nearly standing over him now.

_There!_ A thin pipe. Jay lunges for it, ignoring the pain ripping through his leg. His hand warps around it and he swings it up blindly; it strikes the man in his right side. The man stumbles back with a grunt. An angry growl can be heard from behind the skull mask as the man steps forward, pulling out a damp-looking cloth from his pocket. But then the man breaks into a sudden harsh fit of coughing and staggers into the wall, clutching his chest. It's not even a second later before coughs start to rip from Jay's throat. Both men heave for breath as they cough violently, looking about them frantically for the source.

It stands at the end of the hallway Jay had been walking towards. Jay's vision blackens out for a moment, and he has to blink hard for it to come back. It does, and he looks up in horror to see that the creature is suddenly much closer.

Then Jay hears the familiar rattle of pills shaking in a bottle. He hears the cap pop off, a pause, and then feels strong hands grab him from behind. He twists violently, but is unable to do much in his coughing fit. He feels gloved hands pry his mouth open and to his shock a pill is shoved inside his mouth.

The creature is approaching – fast. Fear of the creature overcomes Jay's fear of the masked man and he swallows the pill. He doesn't know how he manages it; he's never dry-swallowed a pill before, and his coughing is not yielding. But somehow he does.

The creature stops, staring at the two. Jay suddenly feels fury, though he's sure it's not his anger he's feeling. Then, the creature is gone.

Jay doubles over, collapsing on his side, the last few vicious coughs spewing from his body. Confusion rakes his mind; why did the masked man – his kidnapper – save him? He tries to turn around to face the man, but once again feels the gloved hands grab him. The damp cloth the man had been holding earlier is suddenly pressed over Jay's nose and mouth. It smells sweet. Jay jerks violently and tries to twist away, but the drugs are already taking effect. His vision is darkening quickly and already he's losing senses of his surroundings. He doesn't even have any time to cry out before he loses consciousness.


	9. Chapter 9: Exposure

**Whew! Sorry that took so long. Here it is!**

/

/

Tim leaves Jay's camera behind. It had been damaged in the crash, but surprisingly was still usable. Well, somewhat. But even if it had been in perfectly good condition, Tim would still refuse to take it with. This is not the time to worry about where a camera was pointing. This is about getting Jay back. The only advantage the camera has is to warn him of when that creature is coming. And even then, his headaches and coughs start at about the same time the footage distorts, so there really is no use for it. All Tim ends up taking with him is a single water bottle and a new pocketknife and flashlight he buys on the way out of Becky's hometown.

The two and a half hours it takes for Tim to get to Rosswood Park are the worst he ever experiences. His mind keeps coming up with horribly vivid images of every scenario of what could be happening at that hospital. The man in the skeleton mask standing over Jay's mangled, bloody body; Jay, kidnapped once again by that creature, tortured in some dark place; Jay wearing a mask of his own, finally driven to insanity…

The scenarios relentlessly replay in his head for the entire duration of the drive. He is besides himself with frustration and panic, and feels completely powerless. He is forced to _sit_ for hours, unable to do anything except push down on the gas pedal with his foot. He feels guilty, as though the simple act of driving isn't good enough. That he's failing Jay already by not getting there any faster.

So seeing that line of trees at the edge of Rosswood Park fills him with joy he never thought he'd feel upon coming to that cursed place. He parks the car and jumps out, not hesitating one second as he hurries across the grass into the trees. It's a while into the hike before he wonders if he had locked the car or not. He almost laughs at the suddenness of the random thought and quickly realizes that he doesn't care. As far as he knows, the only person that would mess with it is at the hospital with Jay. And it's not like the creature itself is about to show an interest in Becky's old Buick.

Though it does not rain, the sky remains gray and cloudy as Tim makes his way through the woods. And finally, at the edge of the park, the hospital wing looms before Tim. He can see no movement from the outside, though it's not like Tim is expecting the masked man to be waving a flag at him from the entrance. Trying to shake off the sudden feeling of apprehension creeping at the edges of his mind, Tim approaches the hospital and cautiously steps through the doorway.

His steps echo loudly on the dusty cement. He looks around the desolate hospital wing, but can see no sign of anyone having been there. Everything looks exactly like how it had been the last time he was here. When _was_the last time he was here? Looking back on everything that had happened over the past years, it all seems so muddled now.

"Hello?" he calls out. He knows whoever is here will hear him – which is exactly what he wants. So either Jay can answer him, or the masked man can find him. And he _hopes_ that the masked man finds him. His hand hovers over the pocket that is holding his knife. "Jay? Buddy, can you hear me?" He turns left and starts walking down the hallway, peering into every open doorway he passes. "Jay?" Nothing but plaster and broken cement greet him at each door. Tim's senses are completely alert; eyes flickering about, ears straining to pick up any tiny amount of sound.

He turns and walks down a hallway just as empty as the last one he had just been in. He looks to the right and sees the small courtyard outside of the windows. It looks more overgrown and haphazard than ever before. It's almost impossible to see any patch of ground, and peering through the vines and dense brush to the other side of the courtyard is a hopeless cause. Scanning it quickly, he sees nothing of interest and continues on. For a few minutes his search turns up nothing useful.

He finds the message in the room Brian (or, the hooded man, as he had been then) had hidden that tape and had checked on when Tim and Jay had been stalking him. It's painted crudely on the wall, the letters messy and hastily written.

CHECK THE TUNNEL

The tunnel? Tim stares at the message in frustration. _Why would you lead me all the way out here only to make me go to the tunnel? That's stupid and waste of time for both of us._ He blinks and suddenly straightens. _Unless…he wasn't talking about _that _tunnel._ Tim's mind suddenly snaps back to the day Jay and him had been stalking Brian. Brian had led them to the maintenance tunnel entrance – the same tunnel Jay later found Tim's medical records in. Tim breaks into a run, his shoes skidding across the moldy tiles as he runs through the hospital wing. Outside, the sun is just starting to set, but it already seems so much later than that because of the clouds blocking most view of the sky. Tim breathes a sigh of relief at his decision to bring along a flashlight as well as his knife.

The entrance to the maintenance tunnel is empty of people or any sign of disturbance, though Tim is not surprised at that. Glancing around just in case, Tim quickly climbs over the side and grabs the ladder. He jumps to the dusty ground beneath and pulls out both his flashlight and knife as he turns around to face the tunnel.

"Jay?" he shouts into the darkness. His voice echoes back to him, bringing along no accompanying sounds. Tim flicks on his flashlight and points it in front of him; using the dim illumination, he walks into the tunnel.

The air is damp and warm in the tunnel. It feels like it's constricting around Tim, trying to choke the life from his lungs. It makes him panic slightly, with the dimness and closeness of the walls. But he forces down his fear and makes himself think of Jay. He moves the flashlight back and forth, searching every part of the tunnel for any clues as to where Jay could be.

"Jay?" he calls again. "Jay, come on! Say something!" The only responding noises are his footsteps grinding into the gravel, and the steady drip of a leaked water pipe somewhere further along. Something suddenly catches his eye and he swings his flashlight up to the right wall. His stomach drops at what is painted there.

The symbol. He takes a step forward, squinting at the paint the symbol is drawn in. It's red. His breathing becomes more rapid as he reaches out and touches the paint. It's dry, but there's no mistaking the shade of color the paint is. A deep red – much like blood.

Tim swallows. _Please no._ "Jay!" he spins away from the wall, and stops again. On the opposite wall is red writing.

YOU ARE TO BLAME

He runs down the tunnel a few feet to put the words behind him, only to find more on the right wall.

YOU LOST

On the left wall:

YOU CAUSED THIS

He keeps running. On the right wall:

HE IS LOST BECAUSE OF YOU

On the left:

LOOK AT

Right:

WHAT YOU'VE DONE

Left:

RETRIBUTION IS COMING

Right:

YOU DESERVE

Left:

EVERY PUNISHMENT

Right:

IT WILL GIVE

Left:

DID GIVE

Right:

TO JAY

"Stop! Stop!" he screams, sobs mixed in with the words. "Stop it! Where is he? Where's Jay? _Where is he!_"

The silence that follows his plea is suffocating.

Drip.

Drip.

Only the water seems to mind breaking it.

And then. It's so soft Tim almost misses it. A slight thud. It's distant, but Tim is sure a person made it. "Jay!" he shouts. "Answer me, bud!"

Another thud. Tim runs forward a few steps and sees a small tunnel branching off to the right. Tim immediately goes down it. "Jay!" he calls out every few steps or so, allowing enough time to fall in between the shouts for the person to answer. Not every pause is filled with a thud, but there are enough made that Tim is able to wind his way down the tunnel with enough confidence that he is going in the right direction. He close now. He turns sharply around the corner, and skids to a dead stop.

A few feet down the new tunnel, the outline of his body barely visible in the dim light, is Jay. He sitting on the ground awkwardly, his back stretched at an odd angle. It's easy to see why – Jay's wrists are tied to a pipe running down the tunnel. They hold his arms up to about the same height his neck is at. His forehead is resting against his hands, but as Tim's flashlight passes over his face his eyes tiredly open and look up at Tim.

"I knew I wasn't hallucinating your voice…" he murmurs. Jay's words are padded, as though he's speaking through a wad of cotton.

"Holy shit," Tim breathes. He drops to his knees in front of Jay, letting the flashlight roll to the floor. "Jay_, holy shit._" His gaze travels over Jay's bloody and bruised body. "What did he do to you?" Tim didn't think he could feel anymore hate for the man in the skeleton mask, but the rage burning inside of him is so intense that it's hard for him to focus for a moment.

Jay tries to say something, but the words come out gasping and wheezy. Tim immediately grabs the water bottle he had brought with and unscrews the cap. He holds it to Jay's lips, who drinks the water eagerly. He coughs once, spurting out some of the water, but manages to swallow the rest. Though from the look on his face it's clearly painful to do so. Tim can only imagine how ragged and dry Jay's throat is.

Jay's breathing is harsh as he leans heavily against his hands. "I can't believe you're here," Jay whispers. "I'm so scared, Tim…" His eyes never leave Tim's face, though tears have started to drip down his cheeks, leaving lines in the dirt smudged on his skin. "He left me with no light…I don't…" His voice cracks and melts into a sob. "I'm so sorry, Tim…I didn't mean any of it…"

"Hey," Tim says, his voice trembling. "Hey, it's okay, Jay. I got you. _I got you_. It's okay." Jay just nods, still staring at Tim with teary eyes. As though he's scared to look away, because who knows what could happen in that split second they lose eye contact.

Tim nods back at Jay, trying to look reassuring. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his knife; he swiftly brings it up to Jay's wrists, but pauses at seeing the state of Jay's hands.

Blood cakes every curve and ridge of the slim hands, the source easily spotted as the several cuts marring the pale skin. Jay's wrists are swollen and bruised around where the rope is cutting into them, one of the wrists also heavily covered in dry blood. Tim's chest tightens in anger as he gently saws away the rope. The rope falls to the ground, as does Jay's limp hands. Jay himself starts to pitch forward, but is caught by Tim. Tim lets his knife slip from his hands, ignoring it as he reaches forward and wraps his arms around Jay's body and pulls his friend into a fierce embrace.

"You scared the shit out of me, Jay…" Tim says, but any tone he could have been going for is completely lost by the state of his voice, which has been significantly weakened in his relief.

Jay does not reply; he shudders against Tim's body, and then begins to sob. Since he is too weak to raise his arms, Jay simply presses his face into the crook between Tim's shoulder and neck, allowing his body to be held upright by Tim. As Tim holds Jay, he feels tears of his own start to streak down his face. He clutches the frail form closer, squeezing his eyes shut briefly.

After a short while, Jay's sobs subside. He tries to pull away from Tim, but can barely move his arms. Tim helps Jay adjust so that he is still sitting on the ground, but leaning against the opposite wall of the tunnel without a pipe running down it. Jay cries out softly as Tim moves his legs, but doesn't say anything in response to Tim's questioning gaze. Tim gives Jay another drink of water and then kneels before his friend, taking the smaller hands in his.

"Jay," he says, studying the hands with concern. "What happened?"

"Cut myself with glass…" Jay's voice is still hoarse, and trembling from his crying, but he is able to form clearer words now. "Freed myself before…"

"But he caught you again?" Tim

"Yeah."

Tim's grip tightens ever so slightly on Jay's bloody hands; Jay winces and tries to pull them away.

"Sorry," Tim mutters.

"S'alright…"

"Jay, how long were you out of it?" Tim asks. He knows it's painful for Jay to speak, but he needs to know; Jay may have a serious concussion.

"Don't know…" Jay mumbles. "Was drugged…"

Tim has to let go of Jay's hands before he crushes them in anger. "Drugged?"

Jay nods dully. "It's wearing off now…I think…" He coughs violently, and cold fear creeps up on Tim. The coughing is very shot-lived though, and Jay's breathing eases into pained wheezes.

Tim is glancing about them nervously now. "Jay, can you walk? We should go."

Jay bites his lip. "I don't know. My leg…"

Tim glances down at Jay's legs, studying them thoroughly for the first time. Jay's left pant leg is soaked in blood. Tim's stomach churns uneasily as he pushes aside the torn fabric. Jay's leg is clumsily wrapped in a filthy bandage, also dyed a dark red with Jay's blood. It looks dry now, but there's so much of it that the nervousness in Tim's chest turns into full terror.

"We need to get you to a hospital, now," Tim says, horrified. "You've lost so much blood, and it's been _hours_ since the wreck."

"I know," Jay whispers, and the fear in his voice makes Tim even more afraid. Jay blinks, frowning. "Head keeps spinning…"

Tim grasps Jay's left arm. "Come on, Jay, try and get up."

Jay grasps Tim's arm with his hand, wincing as he does so. But he holds on, and together they try to pull Jay to his feet.

The sound of a gun being cocked echoes loudly in the tunnel.

Tim and Jay freeze. Together, their heads snap to the entrance of the tunnel Tim has just come from. Standing there is the man wearing the skeleton mask. And he's holding a gun pointing straight at them.

Jay immediately starts sliding to the ground again, too weak from pain and fresh terror to hold himself up. Tim stays in his half-kneeling, half-standing position, keeping one hand on Jay's shoulder. The man simply watches them, holding the gun perfectly straight. Not one sound escapes him.

A moment of silence passes. "What do you want?" Tim finally asks. No response. "What do you want?" Tim repeats, fiercer this time.

The masked man's gun starts to shift slightly so it is no longer pointing at both of them, but focusing on Tim more. In that second Tim lunges forward, scooping up his knife from the ground and throwing himself at the masked man's legs. A gunshot goes off, but Tim feels no pain as he grabs the man around the legs, knocking both of them through the tunnel entrance into the larger tunnel. Tim swings up his knife, but his hand is knocked to the side by the man's.

"Tim!" Jay shouts from behind them.

Tim brings the knife down again, but his wrist is caught by the man's and held in mid-air. As Tim expected, the man is fairly strong; he is able to hold Tim's arm and knife away from him, though his arm shakes slightly at the effort. After a moment, Tim manages to free his other hand from beneath their two bodies. He immediately reaches for the man's mask, hoping that taking it off will shock the man into releasing Tim's arm holding the knife. The man realizes Tim's intentions and violently tries to throw Tim off of him. Tim starts to tumble over but lunges forward; his hand grasps the mask. The two fall to the side, and Tim's hand snaps away from the man's face, the mask in his grasp.

The man scrambles away from Tim in panic, snatching up his fallen gun as he springs to his feet. He swings his gun around and points it directly at Tim, who is still on the ground, the skeleton mask in his hand. Tim stares up at the man pointing a gun at him and his jaw drops. But it's Jay's voice from behind him that speaks first.

"_Seth?_"

Seth scowls, his eyes never leaving Tim's face.

Tim doesn't know what to say. What to _do_. "Seth?" he finally breathes in shock. "I…but…_how?_"

Seth gives a harsh laugh. "How what?" His voice is hoarse, as though it has not been used in a long time. It doesn't sound like Seth at all, and yet there's just enough to be recognized in it that one can tell that it is indeed Seth speaking. Or…what's left of him, anyway. "You mean, how did I not end up in that monster's hell, where Jay's been for almost three years?"

"But…we saw you get taken," Jay says. His voice is still horribly dry, but he sounds much more alert now, the shock having shaken him out of his hazed stupor somewhat. "On Alex's tape."

Tim tries to turn to glance back at Jay, but Seth jerks the gun in his direction. "Don't," he warns. Tim glares at Seth, but does not try to look back at Jay. Seth's eyes flicker to Jay for a moment before returning to Tim. "Oh, I _did _get taken by that thing," he says darkly. "Trust me. It decided to take me on a fun little 'fuck up this kid's head' trip. Fairly similar to the one Tim here experienced after _you _abandoned him in the tunnel, Jay. Remember that? How your betrayal and Tim's little acid trip from hell was captured all nice and pretty on camera for all of YouTube to see?"

"Shut up, Seth," Tim says viciously. "He didn't betray me. I _told _him to run –"

"I wouldn't tell a person pointing a gun at me to 'shut up' Tim," Seth says. "Then again, you weren't always the brightest one in the group. That was more Alex's area of expertise, using his brain. You two idiots though…"

"Yeah, and who's the one who got his neck all sliced up?" says Tim.

"I said he had the _brains_, I didn't say he could beat you in a fight."

"How'd you get out?" Jay suddenly asks. He sounds immensely curious, even a little scared maybe, and…jealous? Tim frowns at detecting that bit of tone.

Seth looks over at Jay for a split second. His gaze returns to Tim, and he stares at the man on the ground hard, though he's not exactly looking at Tim. It's more as if he's looking _through_ Tim, or not even seeing him there. "I don't know," Seth finally admits. "Not exactly, anyway. But I did. Tim did too, didn't you Tim? You wouldn't happen to have an explanation, would you?"

Tim just stares at Seth in cold fury.

"Guess not. Well anyways, after I got out, I laid low. I kept an eye on the Marble Hornets YouTube channel though, watching while you animals shot and stabbed answers into all of your problems."

"And what have you been doing exactly?" Tim asks.

Seth ignores the comment. "I was able to keep a low profile for a long time. No one bothered me, and I didn't bother anyone. But then Alex got his neck sliced open and _you_ left Alabama, Tim, taking your little protection pills with you. So that _thing_ was left all alone without its main henchman and its favorite play toy. Sure, it could feed off of other little children here and there, no big deal –"

Tim starts to move forward, the look on his face furious, but Seth once again jerks the gun at him, and Tim is forced to stop.

"But it was pissed. It was furious that _you_ got away and permanently damaged its favorite psycho to fuck with. It wanted its main source of food to be personal. And who was the closest thing it could find to you guys? _Me_. It found me no problem, and then feasted like it hadn't eaten in a hundred years. You think you know hell," Seth hisses. "You don't know _anything_. I only lasted eleven months; I couldn't take anymore after that. I had to get it to latch back onto you. Back onto the _source_.

"I searched for you for months. Oh, it was hard – you had covered your tracks good, I'll give you that. But eventually I found your dear mother, who had so sweetly abandoned you at that mental hospital when you were a kid –"

Tim's hands clench into fists. "You son of a bitch, I swear, if you had hurt her –"

"Get a hold of yourself, Tim. I'd have to be an idiot to hurt her; someone would notice for sure if she went missing. I was surprised though, even _she_didn't know exactly where you were. That was fine. All I needed was your phone number. And after a lot of boring 'how was college with Tim' and 'I'd like to see Tim again' conversations, I got it."

"_You_," Jay suddenly says. "_You _were the one who got me out. You're the one you left me at the trial site!"

Seth smiles smugly, as though he can't help but be proud of himself. "Good job, Jay. Even if your memory has gone to shit, I guess your brain's somewhat improving on the deducing-ability level. I did get you out."

"How?" Tim asks sharply, his eyes narrowed in distrust. "And why? Why would you bother to help him?"

"For _you_, of course. I knew that to lure you back here, Tim, it'd have to be for something _huge_. Like one of your friends coming back from the dead. I have no idea where Brian is. Dead in a hole somewhere I guess. Alex is in the same place Jay was, but I've never seen him in my time there. He's really deep in there. He _really _pissed that thing off." Seth shrugs. "There was no way I could get him out – not that I was planning on it. Between Alex and Jay, the choice is obvious."

"How is it even possible to get to that place voluntarily? And even more impossible, getting _out_? _And _with another person?" Tim asks, the distrust obvious in his voice.

"It is possible." Seth says simply, looking down at Tim with prideful amusement. Tim's hand twitches at his side; he'd like nothing more than to punch that smug grin off of that face. Seth smirks. "Though it's not wise to do it in a…normal state. That's why I got that ridiculous mask. I think that somehow, our masked states make it possible for us to navigate through that hellhole less…detected. Less able to be influenced."

"My bullet wound though," says Jay.

"That…was complicated," Seth says. "You see, Tim, time in that monster's place is…different. It's slower than regular time, but then it's faster than regular time too. I don't know how to explain it; time doesn't exactly move in one set direction there. So things can repeat themselves over and over, or go through cycles. Like our buddy Jay here. It wasn't _all _the time, but sometime Jay's nightmares would heal him."

"What?" Tim asks sharply.

"The nightmares in that place are _real_, idiot. Everything you experience there is both physical and mental. Whatever is happening to you is _really_happening to you. Not matter how absurd. And in some of Jay's nightmares, he'd heal, only so Alex could shoot him again. And again. And again." He glances over at Jay. "You sure you don't remember any of that Jay? Come on. I know you remember _some _of those nightmares you've been having back in the real world. You can lie to Tim all you want, but it's _so_ painfully obvious."

Tim risks a glance back at Jay, and Seth doesn't stop him. Jay is glaring at Seth, but Tim can see the raw terror in his eyes. It unnerves Tim. Jay's breathing is ragged, and his jaw is clenched shut. He does not look at Tim – he is completely focused on Seth.

Seth grins and turns his gaze back to Tim. "So," he says, catching Tim's attention again. "I had to wait for Jay to go through a cycle that healed his wound. It would be a _very _temporary state, and I only could try once before that creature caught on. But did it. I got him out, and dropped him off at that stupid ghost story place for you to find him. But that thing quickly found out that Jay had gotten out. It didn't like that. So it came looking for its lost torture-toy. It found us a lot sooner than I had expected. I hid, but the creature didn't take Jay back. I think it was intrigued. It wanted to see what I was doing."

"So all of this, everything you've done, was just so that thing would take Tim instead of you?" Jay asks. Seth narrows his eyes at Jay, but the expression on his face is answer enough. "So why would you try and shoot us?" Jay continues. "That thing seems to prefer breathing victims over dead ones."

"Breathing yes, but not completely healthy. Haven't you noticed? It only takes people who are in an extreme weakened state. I don't think it's even _able_ to take fully healthy or alive people into it's…world, or whatever. I'm not going to _kill _Tim, and a bullet – if put in the right place – won't do that. And then I'll finally be free of that wretched thing."

The nervousness is clear in Jay's eyes, but he gives a harsh laugh. "What a waste of time. You really think that thing is just going to let you go? That it's going to let you live out the rest of your life in peace?" Jay gives a rough cough. "You're marked, Seth. It's _never _going to let you go now."

"We'll see," Seth hisses. He starts to move the gun in Jay's direction.

"For a guy who so desperately wants both us and that creature off of his hands, you sure do like to talk a lot," Tim cuts in quickly, in an attempt to keep the gun trained on him instead of Jay. To his relief, Seth does pause, looking at Tim. Tim continues, his voice growing stronger with every word. "You're stepping into cliché-movie-villain territory here with all this monologuing. I mean, I understand wanting to explain a little bit of your evil plan to us, but _this,_this is going a bit overboard, don't you think?" Seth glares at Tim, and Tim smirks slightly. "Or is it because you're finally in the spotlight? After being shoved to the side by Alex all those years, being treated as nothing more than the kid who got Alex the next handful of tapes, you're finally in charge of the situation. And it doesn't matter who gets hurt, as long as you finally come out on top."

"Shut up." Seth's hand holding the gun is shaking in his rage. "_Shut up_." He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it. Then he cocks an eyebrow. "Fine. You don't want to talk anymore, Tim? Fine by me." Then he fires the gun.

Tim had been expecting that. He throws himself to the side before the last word leaves Seth's lips, and feels burning on the lower part of his left thigh as he hits the ground. Hissing in pain, he immediately scrambles to his feet and lunges at a shocked Seth. The two tumble to the ground and the gun flies from Seth's grip. But Seth knees Tim in the thigh where the bullet had grazed him and Tim cries out, his grip loosening for a second. It's enough for Seth to flip them over so he is straddling Tim and pinning him down. He snatches up Tim's knife lying in the dirt besides them and brings it down towards Tim's chest. Tim manages to catch Seth's hands and holds them, the knife hovering inches above his body. Both pairs of hands are shaking with the effort, and slowly Tim can feel the knife begin to descend.

A shot rings out. Seth's grip immediately slackens, and for a moment he's frozen. He looks down, and Tim follows his gaze to a bullet hole in Seth's upper abdomen. Blood begins to slowly seep from the wound, soaking the front of Seth's shirt. Seth gurgles a cough and blood spurts weakly from his lips. He begins to tip forward and Tim quickly scrambles out from beneath him. Jay is on his knees behind them, watching with wide eyes; the gun falls from his hand and clatters to the floor.

Tim still hates Seth. He hates him for how much he's hurt Jay over the past few days. And yet, he no longer wants to kill him. Seeing the broken man lying on the floor, choking on his own blood…it's like Alex all over again. Tim is staring, just staring. Numb to anything but the echo of his hate and the consequences of his selfish desires.

"Tim!" Jay's warning shout is quickly cut-off by a sudden coughing fit. Tim glances up at Jay sharply and immediately pain shoots through his head. He groans; his chest begins to tighten, and he starts to cough violently.

"Tim!" Jay gasps again, trying to crawl towards Tim. But his bad leg gives out beneath him and he collapses to the ground.

"Jay!" Tim crawls over to Jay. "Come on, Jay! Get up! _Get up!_" He tugs desperately at Jay. Jay's coughs shake his body violently to the point Tim is worried Jay might start throwing up. Jay tries to push himself up, but his wounded hands and leg refuse to comply. Grabbing the pipe running along the narrow tunnel, Tim pulls himself to his feet. Bent over from the coughing, he pulls Jay to his feet and slings his arm around his shoulder. Tim's vision is flickering between blackness and normal as his headache worsens. He's vaguely aware of a dull buzzing noise in the back of his mind. Tim starts dragging Jay further down the tunnel, away from the direction he had come from and away from the shuddering form of Seth.

"We should help him…" Jay manages to gasp out between coughs.

Tim knows they should. He knows it would be the right thing to do. So why is he pulling Jay away? _Go back go back go back._ Another wave of pain rips through Tim's head and he falls to his knees; Jay slips from his grasp and sinks to the ground. Then they feel it. Both snap their heads back towards the end of the tunnel where Seth is.

It is standing over Seth, staring down at the bleeding – but still alive – man. Then it tilts its head up to look directly at Tim and Jay.

Immediately, Tim pulls out his pill bottle. He doesn't even bother pressing two pills into Jay's bloody hands and instead shoves them into the man's mouth. Then he swallows two for himself. Holding the pill bottle in one hand, he grasps Jay's arm with the other. _Don't you come over here. Don't you try and take him again._

The pain is increasing to an unbearable level. Both Tim and Jay cry out in agony and clutch their heads, stars flickering across their blackening vision.

Then all is silent.

Tim and Jay blink, staring at the ground from their bent positions. Slowly, they raise their heads.

They are alone in the tunnel. For a long moment the two stare, their mouths slightly open. They do not move, nor make any sound – are _capable _of making a sound.

"We…we let it take him…" Jay finally whispers in horror. "I can't believe we…I can't…I _shot_ him…"

Tim sets his mouth in a grim line. He pushes down the guilt burning in his chest, his mind oddly clear now that the creature is gone. He turns to Jay and grasps his arm firmly. "Come on, Jay," he says, careful to balance his voice between gentle and firm. "We have to go. Now."

"Seth…"

"Sitting here isn't going to do anyone any good," Tim says. "We need to get out of here."

Jay does not look convinced in the slightest. But he nods and allows Tim to pull him to his feet. He's trembling, and barely able to walk. Much of his strength gone himself, Tim has a hard time dragging Jay back through the tunnel. They try to look anywhere but at the blood-soaked ground as they pass by the spot Seth had been laying seconds before. It's hard work, though both men try to help each other as much as possible, but slowly they make their way back to the entrance of the main tunnel.

/

/

**NOTE: This is not the last chapter! I've got about one more to go. ;)**

**And I think I should touch on why Seth is totally competent and "himself" even though he was wearing his mask like 2 secs before he starts talking. Because the Operator never actually turned him into a "proxy" or whatever like Tim and Brian. Seth just donned a mask so he could do his stalking and what-not. He's more like Alex. His mind's been tortured and warped by the Operator, but he's still "himself"...to an extent. Like Alex was himself...to an extent. But Alex was able to talk, so Seth can too.**  
** And I guess just wearing a mask is good enough to get into the Operator's world with a free card...? Well, according to Seth it is. :P**


	10. Chapter 10: Aftermath

It's sprinkling lightly when they make it outside of the maintenance tunnel. The sun is just about to dip below the horizon, but since they're in the woods it's difficult to see much of anything. So Tim holds the flashlight in front of him and Jay as they walk back through Rosswood in the direction of Becky's car. Thanks to the two and a half hour drive to Rosswood from Becky's house (and a _ton _of the painkiller pills May had gotten him) Tim's injured leg had rested enough to the point where he had been able to walk to the hospital without much problem. Though the adrenaline from the whole situation and anxiety of finding Jay may also have helped push the pain out of his thoughts. However, now with the danger gone and the only task left walking to Becky's car, Tim's leg is starting to bother him again. Small sparks of pain shoot up and down his leg with every step. Not immense pain to the point he can't walk, but enough that he can notice it. He grimaces, trying not to focus on it.

Jay limps beside Tim slowly, his arm wrapped around Tim's shoulders and Tim's arm wrapped beneath his armpits for support. But even then, it doesn't take long for Jay's breath to become short and gasping, and his skin to pale alarmingly.

"Jay, do you need to stop?"

Jay shakes his head, his mouth set stubbornly. "No. No, I'm fine." His demeanor had immediately changed the moment they had climbed out of that damn tunnel and gotten into the fresh air. His shock wore off fairly quickly, replaced by a stony, almost angry attitude. And Tim knows exactly what caused the change: they had left Seth. They had abandoned Seth and let that monster take him. And Jay had given Seth the shot that condemned him to that creature's world.

Tim doesn't know how to tackle this one. He knows that what they had done had to be done. To save themselves. That shooting Seth saved Tim's life, and probably Jay's too. It was either them or Seth. At least, that's what Tim keeps telling himself. Still, he feels something nagging at him as they walk. Probably Jay. It's like Jay has become Tim's conscience – his very own Jiminy Cricket. How charming. And fucking annoying. Tim grits his teeth and shifts Jay's weight slightly, trying to shove off the irritating feelings tugging at him. Right now, their one concern needs to be finding a hospital and getting Jay help. But even _that _task seems impossible. What are they going to tell the doctors? Tim doesn't have medical insurance, how are they going to pay for it? Tim wonders if there's any way he could take care of Jay without going to the hospital.

Jay moans and starts sinking to his knees, jolting Tim out of his thoughts. "Jay?" Jay is wheezing, one hand gripping Tim's arm tightly and the other placed on the ground to hold himself up. "_Jay?_" Tim kneels beside Jay, whose head is bent down, partially obscured by his matted, uncut hair. Tim shakes Jay's shoulder gently. "Hey. Jay, look at me." His face tightened into a grimace, Jay tilts his head upwards.

Jay is sweating profusely, the front of his shirt already soaking, and the roots of his hair wet. They had been walking for about twenty minutes now, and Tim had been so focused on putting one foot in front of the other that he hadn't even thought to check on Jay more thoroughly. _Idiot_.

"Jay? Can you walk? Do you need to rest?" _Come on buddy, say something._

Jay grits his teeth, his expression more of someone about to throw up rather than of pain. "Everything keeps spinning," he whispers, too tired to speak any louder. He groans and presses the hand that had been on the ground to his forehead. "I feel like I'm going to throw up."

"Hey, well we can stop a while if you need to."

"Don't want to…" Jay slurs. "S'almost dark…"

A sudden thought crosses Tim's mind; frowning, he sets the flashlight on the ground and sets his hand against Jay's cheek. Cold fear pools in Tim's stomach; Jay's skin is clammy, and horribly warm. Tim moves the hand to press against Jay's forehead – it's even hotter than Jay's cheek. Jay does not say anything to the intrusion of space; if anything, he leans into Tim's hand, taking comfort in Tim's cooler skin.

"Shit Jay, you're burning up."

Jay doesn't look surprised or – oddly – all that concerned. His mouth twitches. "I knew it was infected…" he mumbles.

"What?"

"My leg."

Tim glances down at Jay's bloody leg. _Oh no._ "Oh you gotta be kidding me," Tim mutters.

Jay gives a weak snort. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault," Tim says gruffly. "You weren't the one who drove us off the road." _I was._

"Don't even…start that bullshit…blaming yourself thing…"

Tim sighs. "Let's just get you to a hospital."

Jay groans again, though not from dizziness or pain. "How's that…even gonna work…"

"Doesn't matter – you need help."

Jay shakes his head and tries to push himself off of the ground. His limbs start to wobble and Tim immediately grasps Jay's arms, pulling him to his feet. He allows Jay to lean heavily against him, though he's exhausted enough to fall over himself. "Let's just go," Tim says quietly.

So they start off again. But the going is even slower than before. Jay's breathing is getting more irregular and short, and his arm wrapped around Tim's neck is trembling. Tim is just about to force Jay to stop when Jay starts to sink to the ground again. Only this time, he does not hold himself up on his knees. Tim cries out in alarm as Jay tumbles from Tim's grasp and collapses onto the wet grass below them.

"Jay!" Tim kneels beside Jay's unconscious form, terror pulsing through him. "Jay, come on!" _No, no, I just got him back. I _saved _him. He's supposed to be okay. He has to be okay._ Tim turns Jay over onto his back and presses two fingers to Jay's throat, just under his jaw. Jay's pulse is there – barely. Tim's gut feels like it's caving in on itself. "Jay, come on. Come on. I saved you. I _saved _you. I don't leave you and you don't leave me, that's how it works. Come on, stay with me, buddy!"

Tim gives Jay's shoulders a shake, but Jay does not respond. Glancing around him wildly – for what Tim has no idea – Tim leans down and pulls Jay off of the ground. He slings his friend's limp body over his shoulders fireman-style and picks up the flashlight. Having to use both hands to hold Jay up, it's hard to hold the flashlight as well. But with the sky covered in clouds, it's impossible to see without the light. So he awkwardly holds it in the hand that's also holding Jay's wrist, and uses the shaky light as his guide. He continues hiking through the dense woods, his tiredness now completely gone in his panic.

His phone is useless – there's no reception where they are right now. He'll have to wait till they get to the parking lot before he can call anyone, and that may be too long for Jay. _I should've brought someone with me. I should've called the police. I should've gotten help. It's all my fault. My pride and stubbornness is going to kill Jay. He's going to die because of me. I can't watch him die again. I can't be left alone all over again._ His hold on Jay tightens, and he tries to quicken his pace. Even then, it feels like they're going no where. Light drops of rain splat against Tim's face, dripping beneath his shirt collar and sliding down his hands, making his grip on Jay's wrist slippery. But he doesn't let go, and he doesn't stop.

Finally, _finally_, they break through the tree line. And just across the short turf of uncut grass is the parking lot. He can see Becky's car waiting beneath a street lamp…accompanied by another car. Two forms stand between the two cars, silhouetted eerily in the orange light. A third one – who looks rather small, actually – is sitting on top of the strange car's hood. Tim freezes, panic coursing through him. Should he go back into the woods and hide? Ask them for help? Who could it possibly be?

Then one of the forms turns so they're directly facing Tim. Before Tim can decide what to do, the person starts running towards them.

"Tim!"

"_Becky?_" Tim almost looses his grip on Jay in his shock. "But…how…"

"Marcus, start the car!"

Tim glances back to the other form still standing beside the car. He can see the person – Marcus – already opening up car door and sliding in. A second later the engine roars to life. The person who had been sitting on the car's hood has already jumped down to the pavement and begun sprinting towards Tim and Jay. It only takes a second for Tim to recognize the person's extremely short height and mane of wild curls as May.

Becky skids to a stop before Tim, her mouth gaping open at the sight of Jay hanging over Tim's shoulders. "Oh my gosh," she breathes in horror. "_What happened?_"

"A lot of shit, that's what," Tim answers bitterly.

"He looks like he got thrown off a cliff and then beaten up by a boxer," May comments in awe as she rushes up beside Becky. "Or the other way around; either way works I guess."

"_May_." Becky shoots May a glare, to which May shrugs. Becky looks back at Tim – and Jay – in concern. "Come on, let's get him to the car. The hospital's a twelve minute drive from here."

Tim doesn't even bother to answer; he pushes past Becky and May and hurries towards the car Marcus is waiting in. Marcus jumps out from the driver's seat and quickly opens up the back door as Tim comes up to it, helping Tim get Jay inside the backseat. Becky and May run up to the car, May climbing into the front passenger seat and Becky into the driver's.

"Marcus, sit in the back with Tim and Jay and try and help," Becky orders. Marcus nods and allows Tim to get inside the car while he runs to the other side of the car and slides in.

"Tell me everything you know," Marcus says as Becky speeds out of the parking lot and pulls onto the road.

Tim looks down at Jay, who is propped up against his chest. "His leg was heavily sliced open by something – I don't know, something from the car crash got him. It's infected, and he has a fever. He's lost a _lot _of blood. His hands – they're cut from glass, and his wrists are swollen and bruised from rope."

Marcus glances up darkly at that, but doesn't interrupt.

"He might have a concussion, but I don't know for sure." Tim bites his lip, looking down at Jay's sweaty face. He hadn't noticed it in the little light provided by his flashlight, but in the brightness provided by the car's dome light he can see just how colorless Jay's face has become. Even his lips are drained of their normal color; instead, a faint tinge of blue has started to creep into them. "I think he's dying," Tim whispers.

Becky's body goes rigid at that. Her grip on the wheel tightens and her foot presses down on the gas pedal harder, but she does not turn around to look at the three men in the back seat. May sits silently, staring ahead with wide, terrified eyes, any shadow of a smirk long gone from her face.

Marcus's mouth is set in a grim line. He turns Jay's hands over, examining them for a few seconds with a dark expression, but quickly sets them down, his concern obviously all for Jay's leg. "Do you have a knife on you?" he asks, bending over Jay's leg.

Tim shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out the requested object, handing it over without hesitation. Marcus pulls Jay's leg onto his lap and begins cutting the fabric away from above where the blood stains stop – which is halfway between his thigh and knee. The majority of Jay's leg free from the ratty fabric, Tim can properly see the extent of Jay's injury.

The filthy makeshift bandage is clumsily wrapped from Jay's ankle to his knee. Blood has soaked through the majority of it, and it looks like it's about to fall off with the poorly done knot holding it together.

"Did you do this?" Marcus asks, studying the bandage with a look similar to one someone would have after having something unpleasant shoved under their nose.

"No," Tim answers. "His…kidnapper did."

Marcus scoffs. "Fucking idiot."

Tim suddenly decides he likes Marcus. A lot.

Marcus sighs. "I'm not going to take off the bandage though; it's best to wait for the doctors to do it where they can immediately dress it with proper materials in case it starts bleeding again, which I'm sure it will." He rubs a hand over his face, sighing. "Fuck. He's so fucking skinny, how's he still alive after losing so much blood?"

Tim almost chuckles at that, despite his terror. "I don't know. He's stubborn, I guess."

Becky jerks the car to the right, almost knocking the three boys in the back over. "Sorry!" she says in response to Tim and Marcus' annoyed glances. "But we're here." The two men look out the window and see a tall building looming over them. A long sign with the word EMERGENCY printed on it hangs from the lowest level before them.

Marcus doesn't even wait for Becky to completely stop the car before getting out and running around to Tim's door. Together he and Tim pull Jay out from the car.

"Marcus, wait!" The two men pause to see Becky getting out of the car and rushing to their side. "Remember what we talked about? You park the car and take May inside. I'll go with Tim." Looking fairly unhappy with this new assignment, Marcus takes Becky's place in the driver's seat. Becky turns to urge Tim inside, but sees that he's already pushing open the building's door, Jay draped across his arms. She hurries in after him.

And chaos breaks loose.

/

The sun sits on the horizon lazily, casting a bright glow over the hospital parking lot and spilling through the open window curtains. The small number of clouds left in the sky are small and cheerfully white, no longer threatening to pour rain upon unsuspecting walkers.

Tim sits in an uncomfortable armchair, head in his hands. The back of the chair is broken and is permanently in the position of the lowest recline setting, so Tim doesn't bother leaning back. He is completely still, to the point that his body is far too rigid for someone to mistake him for sleeping.

It's silent in the room. And annoyingly bright. Tim has half a mind to pull the window curtains shut, but part of him enjoys the sunlight. It's comforting actually. He always did like sunrises better than sunsets. Something about them always seemed so pure, untouched. It's one of the rare things left that Tim can draw real peace from anymore.

Jay looks smaller then ever in the hospital bed. He's propped up by large pillows and surrounded by thin sheets – all stark white. The whiteness of the fabric is almost blinding, and it does no good for Jay's complexion. It makes him look almost sickly by comparison. But Tim isn't concerned – he knows Jay will heal, thanks to the doctors.

It was terrifyingly close for a while. Jay had lost an incredibly dangerous amount of blood between the time of the crash and the arrival at the hospital. And the infection had not helped matters in the slightest. Combine that with Jay's already malnourished body and…well, it was quite the challenge for the doctors. It took hours, but the doctors were finally able to stabilize Jay and properly treat the infection.

Being Jay's cousin, Tim was allowed to stay with Jay for the entirety of the night. Tim smiles at the thought of his new "relation" to Jay. Becky's uncle Carson (who owns the auto shop Tim's car is currently at) apparently has very good medical insurance. He also happens to have a son in high school. Being so small, Jay was easily able to pass as Carson's seventeen year old son. Tim reads the name written on the clipboard hanging over the end of Jay's bed – Luke Keaton – and wonders how he could ever being to repay, or even properly thank, Becky.

It's all because of her that Jay is even able to be in that hospital bed. She had explained it all to Tim last night, but he had been far too anxious about Jay to properly listen. From what he remembers though, apparently Becky had gone straight to her uncle after Tim had left in search of Jay. She had explained the situation to him and he agreed to help pay for the hospital bills. Tim was surprised that he had agreed so easily to help people he had never met, but Becky waved it off, muttering something about she being more "trustworthy than his own son" and his extreme affection for her through their mutual love of cars. Carson had later called the hospital to ask about his "son" and then saying that since he couldn't be there, his nephew Carl would have to be allowed to stay with Luke.

"It's a good thing you have so many cousins," Tim had commented upon hearing his new, temporary identity.

"Hey, talk to my grandparents. They're the ones who decided to have seven kids."

"Christmas must be a blast."

Becky had just laughed at that.

"Hey."

Tim lifts his face from his hands to look up at where the curtain had been pulled around Jay's bed, cutting them off from the other patients in the hospital wing. Becky stands there, one hand holding the partially pulled-back curtain, and the other absentmindedly tugging at a lock of her hair. "How is he?"

Tim glances over at Jay, who continues to sleep. "He's fine. He looks a lot better than he did last night, of course." He looks back at Becky, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Hey, um…thank you. For everything. Jay would have died if you hadn't been there when we got out of the park – you saved his life."

"No," Becky says with a small smile. "No, you saved his life, Tim. I'm just the one who decided that listening to your advice wasn't good enough and chased after you anyways."

Tim chuckled. "Yeah, well, I'm kinda used to my advice not being followed." He pauses, amusement on his face. "Did you even _try_ to stay at your house and wait for me to call?"

"I considered actually waiting for about fifteen minutes. Then I decided 'forget it' and knew that even if I couldn't go into Rosswood Park with you, I knew that you would probably need help once you got out."

"I feel like I should feel vaguely insulted by that last comment."

"Yeah, well you and Jay have an incredible talent for getting into the worst kind of trouble."

Tim sighs. "That's true." He smiles up at her gratefully. "Thank you though. Thank you for coming after us."

Becky returns the smile, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. "No problem." The curtains surrounding Becky suddenly start rustling loudly and Becky starts in surprise, raising her arm in response to a small form trying to dig their way out beneath the curtains. A second later, May pops through the curtains, a bright smile on her face.

"Hi Tim!" she exclaims. "Sorry I couldn't stay with you all night. I wanted to, but Becky said it 'wouldn't be appropriate' or something dumb like that." She shrugs, and continues rambling, talking so fast it becomes almost difficult for Tim to keep up. "Anyways, Marcus brought your car to the hospital parking lot (since you gave him your keys last night, do you remember that?). I looked through the medicine bag I had packed for you and saw you ate like _none _of the candy I put in there! I get you were being a superhero and stuff, but I thought you'd want them now. So here!" And suddenly the large pink bag is shoved in Tim's surprised face, its contents rattling obnoxiously. "Is Jay awake? Would he want some too?"

"May, shush!" says Becky. "Jay's trying to sleep."

"Not anymore…"

All three heads snap to the hospital bed, where a drowsy-looking Jay is trying to push himself into a sitting position.

"Jay!" Tim shoots to his feet and holds his hands out in front of Jay, as though wanting to stop Jay from moving but not exactly sure how to. "You shouldn't be –"

"Moving? Talking? Being conscious?" Jay frowns slightly, though not from annoyance. More from concentration, or from the effort of pushing himself up. "I feel a lot better Tim, don't worry."

Tim lets his hands fall to his side, but the concern does not leave his eyes. Finally in a semi-sitting position, Jay leans back against the pillows, his gaze traveling over the three people surrounding his bed. "So, um…anyone wanna tell me how I got here? And where did you two come from?" Jay blinks at Becky and May in surprise.

"Well –" Becky starts.

"Want some candy?" Before Becky can stop her, May jumps onto Jay's bed, making Jay bounce slightly on the mattress. He has to grab a pillow to steady himself, but he doesn't look irritated in the slightest. May settles herself beside Jay, pulling the pink flowered bag onto the blankets between them. "I got M&Ms, Milky Ways, Skittles, Baby Ruths (I don't like Baby Ruths, but Becky does. I think they're more of a grown-up candy, so maybe you'll like them), and…Jolly Ranchers. Which one?"

Jay's smile is the biggest Tim has seen it in days. "I think I'll take…a Jolly Rancher."

"Good choice," May bends over the bag, pursing her lips together as she digs through its contents. She plucks the desired candy from the bag and hands it over to an extremely amused Jay. "Here's a watermelon. That's the best flavor – trust me."

"Thanks, May."

May grins, throwing a smug look at Becky. Becky sighs, but the beginning of a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "May, come on. Let's get some breakfast for Tim and Jay; Marcus is already waiting in the cafeteria."

"Why do I have to go? Can't I stay with Jay and Tim?"

"Nope. You have to come with me."

"But –"

"I'll let Marcus play his 'boring country music' the entire way home if you argue any further."

May sticks out her lips in half-pout, half-frown. "Fine." She scrambles down from the bed and walks over to Becky, who holds the curtain open for her. Casting a quick wave back at the two men, May allows Becky to usher her through the curtain and into the open area of the hospital wing. The curtain flutters shut, leaving Tim and Jay alone.

Tim returns to his seat in the armchair, adjusting his body so he's fully facing Jay. "How are you feeling, really?"

Jay shrugs. "A lot better than yesterday, that's for sure." He glances around the enclosed space they're in, his eyes lingering on the window for a split second. "So…want to clue me in on what's been going on?"

So Tim tells Jay all that's happened, how Becky found them, and that her uncle is taking care of the hospital bills for now. Jay's expression immediately wilts at that.

"We have to pay him back somehow," he says.

Tim sighs. "Yeah, I know."

"I'll get a job – two jobs. Something."

"We'll work on that together, Jay. Maybe I can get Sean to hire you. If he hasn't fired me by now."

"Sean?"

"My manager. I work at this music store back in Texas. If we want to go back there, that is."

"We?"

"Yeah, you and me." Tim pauses, glancing at Jay with uncertainty. "I mean, if you want to. Not to be frank, but you don't really have anywhere else to go. So if you want to…you're more than welcome to live with me."

Jay's face breaks into a relieved smile. "Thanks Tim." Tim shrugs, looking embarrassed.

Jay frowns slightly, thinking. "Tim…"

"Yeah?"

"I mean, if you don't want to, I understand. But…I was just thinking about all those people from YouTube who had been trying to contact us about seeing the creature." He stops a moment, looking uncomfortable. "As much as I hate to say it out loud, we didn't stop that creature. It's still out there, and it's still a danger to many people. I don't know how much good we can do, or if we'll just mess things up even more, but…" He runs a hand through his hand, searching for words.

"You want to find those other victims," Tim says.

Jay glances at Tim with an expression that's almost one of shame. "I know it's selfish of me to ask you to come with, but if you did, I mean…I don't know…I just think…"

"Jay."

Jay's mouth snaps shut.

"If you think that I would just let you go off on your own like that, and possibly face that monster alone, then you obviously have a more serious concussion than those doctors thought. I'm coming with you."

Jay's eyes stare at Tim intensely, gratefulness and guilt wrapped up in them. "But Tim, I don't want you to come out of obligation –"

"It's not that. I want to be there, and I want to help those people too. I was selfish before, but maybe…maybe we can do some good. And maybe someday we'll find a way to stop this thing – permanently. But until then, I have no problem road-tripping with you all over Alabama, and wherever else we need to go."

Jay's whole body seems to sag in relief. "Thanks, Tim."

Tim shrugs. "I was kinda bored of Texas anyway. After a while, that desert landscape can really get to a person."

Jay smirks. His eyes travel down to his leg, which has been properly bandaged now. His smile drains away, and a mournful expression crosses his face. "I still can't believe we…sacrificed him like that."

Tim grimaces. He had hoped Jay would have waited to bring that up; he is in no mood to discuss Seth right now. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "We didn't _sacrifice _him Jay. He was going to do the exact same thing to us – we did what we had to."

Jay doesn't look comforted at all. He frowns. "Seth was able to get into the creature's…world or whatever, and get out, taking me with him." His frown deepens, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. "I wonder if it's possible for us to do the same thing."

"What?"

Jay turns his bandaged hands over, studying them intensely to avoid Tim's gaze. "Not now. But maybe someday…maybe someday we can do what Seth did for me. Maybe we can get him…and Alex…out."

Tim has no desire to see Alex again, especially after he's been in that creature's hell for two years. He grimaces. "Let's take it one step at a time, Jay. First we'll find the other victims. Then we'll see what we can do about that monster – and Seth and Alex."

Jays nods silently. An awkward moment passes before Jay tilts his head up to look at Tim. "I'm glad you found me, Tim. I'm glad I have you for a friend."

With his thoughts still trailing on Seth and Alex, it takes a second before a smile spreads on Tim's face at Jay's comment. But when it does, it's as genuine and heartfelt a smile as Tim's ever given. "Me too, Jay."

/

/

**Alrighty guys, I have just an epilogue left to write and then Resuscitate will be finished. If some people feels like it ended a little too soon, I'm sorry about that. :3 But I wanted to be sure that I ended the story strong rather than trying to drag it out to the point where it becomes a weak and muddled mess. But don't worry! I'm gonna upload a "deleted scene" I have, and I might write little oneshot stories of Tim and Jay's adventures after the ending of Resuscitate.**

**Thanks for being so awesome and reading this story. I hope you enjoyed it. :) And thank you so much for all your reviews! I appreciated every one, you're all the best!**  
**(Special shout-out to Ark fan and syntheticaesthetic – you guys rock, thanks so much for taking the time to give me feedback, I loved every review)**


	11. Epilogue

Autumn is coming soon. The weather is cooling down – slowly – and the leaves are just about to begin to turn orange at the tips. If they were in school, or had full-time jobs right now, Tim and Jay suppose their lives would feel rather hectic. But as things are, it actually feels rather peaceful, slow even. Things are changing both in the weather and in their lives, but it does not feel rushed; it feels right.

She's a lot closer than Jay thought she would be. Ever since he had been released from the hospital, Jay had not asked to see her, and Tim had not once brought her up. But after breakfast this morning, instead of continuing their drive to Florence, Alabama (where one of the victims, Adam, lives), Tim drives to a small library nestled between a café and a park. Ignoring Jay's questioning look, Tim parks the car in front of the library and gets out. Jay follows him, and they enter the library.

Though it's early in the morning, it's actually fairly busy in the library. There's a muffled hum in the air, comprised of people typing on laptops, librarians murmuring to questioning guests, and the occasional shuffle of someone shifting through books on nearby shelves. It's a small building, only one story tall and basically just one large room. In the center of the room is the check-out desk with the waiting librarians. To the left of the desk are the adult and nonfiction sections. To the right are the teen and children's. Squeezed in-between the teen and children's designated bookshelves is a small reading area, which is basically just a colored carpet with a few chairs scattered around it. Sitting on the carpet, their heads tilted upwards in interest, are about ten children. Their attention is focused on a young woman sitting in a chair, who is reading a book to them. Her face is pale, framed by long waves of brown hair.

Jay freezes immediately upon seeing her. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open slightly. He stands there silently, watching as Jessica reads the book to the children, her voice quiet and calm. Her attention is completely focused on the children sitting before her; she watches their reactions as she reads a funny line to them, smiling at their giggles and taking extra care in turning the page, obviously to tease them as they strain to see the next pictures to come.

"She volunteers here every Tuesday and Friday," Tim says quietly. "When she's not working or going to her doctor appointments. She says it calms her, being around children."

It takes a long moment for Jay to find his voice. "You…you've talked to her?"

Tim feels his stomach twist guilty. "Yes. Just to check up on her."

Jay nods absentmindedly. He has eyes only for the girl sitting across the room from him.

Tim does not say anything else. He has done it; he has taken Jay to Jessica. He's fully aware that whatever consequences that might happen now will be because of him, but it's too late to change his decision. He stands stiffly, not interfering with Jay. He will leave Jay to decide what to do for himself.

A long minute passes, both of them standing and staring in silence. Then Jay turns around and swiftly walks out of the library's doors.

Tim is only a second behind Jay, but by the time Tim makes it outside Jay is standing by the passenger side of the car, turned away from the library building and holding himself tightly. He's staring out over the neighboring park, and as Tim approaches him he notices Jay's quick movement of his hand over his eyes.

"Jay?" Tim asks timidly. "You alright?"

Jay does not turn around.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you –"

"No. I'm glad you did." Jay finally turns to face Tim, and Tim can see the shining in Jay's eyes, though no tears streak down his face. "Thank you, Tim. I needed to see that – see her."

"I know you did," Tim says quietly.

Jay nods, more to himself than to Tim, and then opens the passenger door, sliding in quickly. Tim walks over to the driver's side, his heart suddenly very heavy. Had he made the right decision?

Jay does not look at the library as they pull away. His eyes focus on the park, studying the trees and lingering on the more shadowed, distant edges of it. When they finally put the library behind them, Jay still does not speak. His elbow sits on the car door's armrest, his hand cupping his chin and covering his mouth. Tim does not break the silence, unsure what to say.

"If you see her again," Jay finally says. They've been driving for almost half an hour now, the town long behind them. "Could you tell her I said hi?"

Tim glances at Jay. Jay does not seem sad or upset. Rather, he looks content, at peace. As though he finally accomplished a task that had been given to him long ago and had been unable to complete until today. Tim turns his attention back to the road. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I will."

Then Jay smiles. A soft smile, almost melancholy actually, but a smile nonetheless. "Thanks."

Tim does not answer; Jay doesn't need one. Tim leans forward and turns on the radio, allowing the music to fill up the empty space and lift any leftover tension. "So, Florence?"

"Florence."

"Alright, let's go."


End file.
